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THE BEE'S BAYONET 

(A LITTLE HONEY AND A LITTLE STING) 
—CAMOUFLAGE IN WORD PAINTING— 



BY 
EDWIN ALFRED WATROUS 

Author of "The Fooliam" 




BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



COPYEIGHT, 1918, BY EdWIN AlFRED WaTBOUS 



All Rights Reserved 



Made in the United States of America 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U.SA. 

CcC 26 1918 
©GU5{ISf)S4 f^l^i.S'nXJi 



Dedicated to 

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

CIVILIZATION'S CRUSADER. 

To Thee, My Native Land, America! 

My heart with pride is filled: my lips exult 

Because Thou art my Home — my Fatherland. 

Beneath the Constellation of the States, 

Set in the firmament of fadeless blue, 

I bare my head and hail the Stars and Stripes, 

Proud Emblem of our Unity and Might. 

My Country calls! I give what I possess, — 

All! All I say! and giving thus, regret 

That my poor contribution to thy needs. 

In hours of peril when dark war-clouds loom. 

Is such a paltry thing 

When measured by the debt of gratitude 

I owe for Liberty. 

All that I am and have belongs to Thee. 

Upon thy Altar Fires, 

Where Freedom glows and glorifies Mankind, 

I consecrate 

My flood-tide strength, my substance — life itself ! 

And rate not this as sacrifice 

That gives me pleasure to repay 

In this small way 

Thy boon and bounty, priceless Liberty. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Proem 9 

Behold a Man! ii 

The Julogy 12 

England 29 

Preparedness 30 

The Fugitive Kiss 35 

New Mexican National Anthem ... 36 

Love 38 

Strongarm's Waterloo 39 

The Spirit of France 41 

War 42 

Song of the Samsons 43 

Six Days 46 

A Protest 48 

A Prayer 48 

Since the Little One Came .... 49 

Run Along, Little Girl! 51 

A Retrospect 53 

The Eagle Screams 54 

The Service Star 55 

Some Day 56 

5 



Contents 



PAGE 

The Cruise of the Sea Serpent ... 57 

America 59 

Life and Love .60 

Life in Death 60 

Germany 61 

Italy 62 

Mary is Merry no More 63 

I Shot an Arrow 65 

Fixing the Blame 66 

Love's Recompense 70 

Adam's Ale 71 

Russia 74 

Belgium 75 

Our Friends Across the Street ... 76 

Epitaphs 78 

The Conquest of the Sun 82 

Owed to a Roach 83 

The Moods of the Winds 84 

The Toxic Tippet 85 

Twenty-Third Psalm 86 

Friendship 87 

Paramount Problems 88 

A Reunion 93 

The Cruise of the Squirrel .... 95 

Jingles 97 

The Weight of Love 100 

6 



Contents 



PAGE 

Do It! loi 

Amenities 102 

" Danser sur UN Vulcan 103 

At the Bulging Udder Time .... 104 

Vagaries 105 

A Shattered Romance 107 

The Milky Way 108 

The Logothete no 

The Price of Peace 112 

Men Had Horns Then 113 

Sub Rosa 115 

Whitmanesque 115 

An Apeology 116 

The Bug 116 

Wake, My Love! 117 

First Psalm 119 

Not Peace, but Revenge! 120 

Heredity 122 

The Call of the Homestead .... 123 

Decimal Points 125 

Belles-Lettres 131 

Sandy, the Piper 133 

"Ben Bolt" 135 

Excelsior 137 

Her and Him 139 

The Philosophy of Living 14: 

7 



Contents 

PAGE 

The Sixth of April 144 

Beneath a Cloud 146 

The Columbiad 147 

He's All Right, But — ! 152 

Nature's Studio 153 

PiCARDY 154 

America's Prayer 154 

Epilogue 155 



PROEM 

If you can find, within, a single line 
To give )'ou pleasure, then the pleasure's mine; 
But if you fail and whine, or josh like Billings, 
You might (I say you might!) get back your 

shillings. 
But better yet ! Bestow this Book of Verses 
On some friend-foe you love with hate and curses, 
And j'our revenge will be attained thereafter 
For, when he reads it, he will die with laughter. 
And, Cheerful Reader, if this work contains 
A soporific for your bulging brains 
So that you'll rave about it to your neighbors, 
I'll feel repaid for all rebuffs and labors. 
Though " Wisdom sometimes borrows, sometimes 

lends," 
You'll borrow trouble lending this to friends ; 
But earn my thanks if, when you've praised or 

shown it, 
You'll sit upon the lid and never loan it: 
For ev'ry copy sold, thru friends or slapbacks. 
Just puts Mo'lasses on my buckwheat flapjacks. 
And, Critic Friend, who halts Ambition's flight 
And ties the can to Aspiration's kite. 
Pray recollect that when you plied the pen 
And had some stuff accepted now and then. 
Your tales, O ! Henry, did not prove inviting 
Or else you'd be no Cynic but still writing. 
9 



THE BEE'S BAYONET 



BEHOLD A MAN! 

There stands a Man! unyielding and defiant, 
A master Leader, bold and self-reliant. 
He seeks no conquest but his lance is set 
Against the ruthless Despot's parapet. 
Alert and conscious of his strength, his thrust 
Is sure and timely, for his cause is just. 
Invincible, he rallies to his cause 
Those who love Justice and respect the laws. 
To skulking traitors and to spying foes 
He shows no mercy, but his heart o'erflows 
For those oppressed, who live, nay! who exist 
Where arrogance and tyranny persist: 
But, tho distressed by all this human grief. 
He weeps not idly, but compels relief: 
And those he serves by act or speech or pen. 
One Hundred Million freemen, shout. Amen ! 
" Safe for Democracy the world must be, 
And all its bondaged peoples shall be free! " 
So spake the Man : America thus voiced 
Its ultimatum, and the Earth rejoiced! 
Intensely human, cast from mortal clay 
In Nature's mould, one epoch-making day, 
Behold a Man ! he seems a higher sort, 
Refined with purest gold from God's Retort 
And filled with skill and wisdom. Heaven-sent: 
God bless and keep our peerless President! 



II 



THE JULOGY 

To those who never heard my Songs before, 

And those who have, and want to nevermore. 
This Rhapsody, with all its pithy phrases, 

Has passed the Censors with the highest praises. 
Released by favor of the Board's caprice, 

It takes its proper place — a masterpiece! 
Soft pedal, please! The Knockers are outclassed, 

And Genius finds its recompense at last! 
Whene'er I read about this war-time pelf 

It makes me sick: I can't contain myself! 
The profits on the die-stu^s sent to France 

Make Croesus' wealth a trifling circumstance; 
And what the Farmers get for mules and wheat 

Makes fortunes hitherto quite obsolete. 
In by-gone days the Bards were praised and pen- 
sioned 

Who now are at the Front — and rarely men- 
tioned : 
And all these hardships they endure while men 

Who lurite big checks, thus scandalize the pen. 
The Writers should throw off their yokes and col- 
lars 

And drill their brains to cultivate the dollars. 
The talents they possess are strictly mental 

And can't be utilized for food and rental. 
Their thoughts are capital, but who'll invest 

In Sonnet Stock without some interest? 

12 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Or who'd take stock in Poem Plants? Alack! 
He who invests expects the yellowback. 

But here I'm talking ?noney : what a joke 

For one to thus discourse who's always broke ! 
Since " money talks " we'll suffer it to speak, — 

" I am the thing that countless millions seek ; 
Greed's inspiration, Evil's very root, 
The Nemesis of those in my pursuit. 
Kings pay me homage, pawn their crowns to me 
And, deathless, I enslave their progeny. 
Men famed for noble deeds, who court my smile, 
Ofttimes surrender probity to guile: 
Who, needy, follows my uncertain path, 
I may elude and favor him who hath, — 
For I have wings, and lightning speeds my 

flight,— 
Wealthy to-day, a pauper overnight! 
The Ticker tells the tale from day to day: 
Brings joy to some, to others dire dismay." 

This Work is copyrighted just to show 
To what low depths the Pirate Press will go. 

They borrow thunder from the Vulcan forge, 
Then draw the fire and put the smut on George. 

Each song or verse, it seems to me, should be 
Distinguished by originality 
13 



The Bee's Bayonet 



If nothing else (the matter may be sloppy, — 
But that's no matter if there's ample copy) 

So that the Author's face could be unmasked 
And recognized without a question asked ; 

Or, so identify Calliope 
By strident notes of high-toned quality; 

Or thus detect some Poet's " fist " and style 
By I. O. U.'s unhonored yet awhile. 

The Pirates thus would cease perforce their trade, 
And Bacon would not be confused with Ade. 

In all my songs I do the work myself, 
And draw no inspiration from the Shelf. 

Perhaps my lines would be more read, if cribbed, 
But George and I, you know, have never fibbed. 

And what is more, I think my lines are sweeter 
Than those of Dante, with infernal meter; 

And more heroic, and not half so sad 
As Homer's couplets in the ///iad; 

And far more musical and much prettier 
Than those by Tennyson or by Whittier. 

Each bar is known to me, its licensee, 
And ev'ry note has had my scrutiny: 

I also watch my pauses, moods and tenses. 
And have no words with fair amanuenses. 

If you could see my workshop (do not ask it!) 
You'd find more " carbons " in my paper-basket, 



The Bee's Bayonet 



More rough, unpolished diamonds there im- 
mured 
Than you, Dear Reader, ever have endured. 

I have no Jewish blood, not e'en a strain: 
That's what I lack! If ever born again 

I'd requisition Hebrew sire and dam. 
Something akin, methlnks, to Abraham, 

And take these " jewels," doomed unseen to flash, 
Gloss o'er their flaws, and turn them into cash. 

Here's where I doff my bonnet to the Jew ! 
Tho' sore oppressed they're still the Chosen Few: 

A few In numbers but a mighty host 
When reckoned by the things that count the most, — 

I mean achievements, won by toilsome stages 
In spite of persecutions thru the Ages. 

I see these Davids watching o'er their flocks 
In Palestine. (To-day they watch their stocks 
And clip the coupons from their bonds, you see, 
Just as they sheared the lambs in Galilee.) 
There milk and honey in abundance vied 
To keep the Simple Simons satisfied ; 
But here to luxuries the Josephs cling. 
And milk the honey from most everything. 
Time was when you were treated with disdain 
But now the tune Is quite a changed refrain, 
15 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And Gentiles everywhere take special pains 
To pay respectful tribute to your brains! 
Behold your ancient hills and rugged rocks; 
Your fruitful valleys w^ith their golden shocks 
Of Grain that, grouped around the stately dates, 
Seem to defy the threshing that awaits! 
Here olives ripen 'neath the summer skies 
And yield rich oil, — first Standard Oil supplies ; 
'Twas here the mighty Samson filled with awe 
The Philistines and flayed them with his jaw; 
(No man before, or since, thus courted fame, 
For woman holds these records in her name.) 
And here wise Solomon refused the vote 
In statecraft matters to the Petticoat; 
But when the Referendum was installed 
The wise old King's objection was Recalled. 
And then there's David caring for his sheep. 
And big Goliath (rocking him to sleep). 
There Japheth, Shem and Ham are; Ham tabooed 
By Moses in his Treatises on Food; 
And Jehu with his pair of chestnut colts 
Trotting the highway down like thunderbolts. 
If Jehu reined to-day he'd swap his stable 
For high-power Auto, with a foreign label, 
And hold the record for the Shore Road trip 
From Tyre to Sidon at a lightning clip, — 
i6 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And make his whiskers, driven by the breeze, 
Look like a storm-tossed frigate on the seas. 
There's Jacob dreaming, seeing more than Esau, 
And giving him the double-cross and hee-haw; 
Obtaining Esau's birthright (Silly Dupe!) 
For three brass spheroids and a bowl of soup. 
He traded for it — didn't have to buy it! 
'Cause Brother Hairy, glutton, wouldn't diet. 
But " chickens come back home to roost," forsooth. 
And Jacob in his dotage learned this truth, 
When Leah's sons, of ordinary clay. 
Put Rachel's Joseph in the consomme. 

As Financiers the palm has been bestowed. 
In panegyric, melody and ode. 
On Jacob's sons. The caravans, that passed 
Thru burning sands, from cities far and vast. 
Into their land that teemed with grain and gold. 
Were richly laden. Thus they bought and sold. 
Exchanging corn and cattle, hides and honey 
For finest silks and linens, gems and money, — 
Until, thru bargain-insight, skill and daring. 
They cornered all the fabrics used for wearing. 
And then proceeded, with discerning lust, 
To hump themselves and form a Camel Trust. 
The Traders who had plied this Cargo Route 
17 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Could never, in their deals, get cash to boot 
From Jacob's sons. Sometimes a fleece or skin, 
Of little size and worth, would be thrown in, 
But shekels — No! And so the nomad Sheik 
In quest of easy picking ; Turk and Greek ; 
The wily Fellah from the distant Nile 
Whose gaudy gewgaw "gems" reflect his guile; 
The sleepy Peddlers from the Land of Nod, 
Who still shekinah on ancestral sod; 
And all the Wise Men from the Eastern marts 
Who plan their ventures by the Astral charts. 
Plotted and vowed, by Imps and Endor Witches, 
To wrest from Jacobs Brothers all their riches. 
So, working now with Bulls, anon with Bears; 
Rigging the market to advance their wares 
Or to depress the House of Jacobs' shares, 
It looked as if the plotters might make good 
Against the unsuspecting Brotherhood. 
But patiently the Brethren stood their ground. 
Unmindful of the rumors passed around. 
Or baits to tempt Cupidity thrown out. 
That throttle Judgment and put Sense to rout, — 
Until the market, unsupported, broke: 
Then, feigning sleep, they suddenly awoke 
And took possession of the Stock Exchange. 
Like beaten curs or mongrels with the mange 
i8 



The Bees Bayonet 



The Plotters cringed. The Shorts in wild dismay 
To cover ran, but Zounds ! they had to pay 
Four prices to the Brethren who controlled 
The entire issue of the short stock sold. 
And thus the Brethren made a tidy sum, 
Keeping their standing in Financialdom. 
Keen businessmen, they sold or bought as well, 
But never showed anxiety to sell. 

So Jacob's Sons became, as was their bent. 
The mighty Merchants of the Orient. 
No goose that ever layed a golden egg 
Would needs have come to one of them to beg 
For life or respite. " Nay! Lay on. Good Goose! 
We'll shield thee and thy gander from abuse! " 
Long-headed and kind-hearted, in such cases 
Their noses were not lopped to spite their faces. 
Too wise they were: they had too good a teacher 
To make the nose too prominent a feature! 
While yet the goose was itching for the nest 
They egged her on and Quack! she did the rest. 
A goose she would appear to give so much 
To those who had — but Life is ever such. 
But Jacob's Sons like Isaac, sturdy Oak, 
Made no complaint but bore their golden yolk. 
And, thrifty men, in many baskets stored 
19 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The golden ovals and increased their hoard. 
And so their nests were feathered, as we know, 
But cautious men they were, who didn't crow. 
And so we see them on the filmy screens, 
Matching their talents 'gainst the Philistines: 
And looking close, we notice that the Brothers 
Have bigger stacks before them than the others. 

And then there's Job, the Paradox, who toils 
To show good humor when beset by boils; 
And Jinxy Jonah, ducked and rudely whaled, 
Because he had no passport when he sailed. 
(Whene'er I see the Ocean Mammal spout 
Methinks it's habit — spewififf Jonah out.) 
Delilah's " next " ! Tonsorial Adept — 
A cutting up while headstrong Samson slept. 
Shear nonsense — that man's vigor could be sapped 
Because he had a haircut when he napped. 
Or lose his nerve, e'en at the yawning grave, 
Tho' just escaping by the closest shave. 
With Samson's case a multitude compare. 
For men miss greatness ofttimes by a hair. 
'Twas his conceit that made him lose his nerve. 
As long-haired, whiskered men, bereft, deserve. 
The facts are these : that Samson used to wear 
A wig with ringlets, 'cause his head was bare. 
20 



The Bee's Bayonet 



One night, in playful mood, Delilah stole 

Up to his cot and touched the poor old soul 

For his toupee. He woke, chagrined, and fled 

Because his capillary roots were dead. 

What transformation! Thus the Man of Might 

Became a pussyfooter overnight, 

And went to writing verses from that minute 

Finding his strength, not on his head, but in it. 

Of all your rulers, Roman, Jew or Fezzer, 

The first or most pronounced is Nebu'nezzar. 

{Too long this monstrous name has been derided, 

And so the chad, for rhythm, is elided.) 

" Neb " is enough, for short, and apropos 

Of Shadrach, Meshack and Abednego, 

The King waxed wroth because these three live 

wires 
Passed thru his melting pots and furnace fires 
Without a burn: remarkable endurance! 
Because protected by good Fire Insurance. 
He paid the price for arson ere he died, 
Was kept lit up and rightly classified 
Among the beasts: and now that all is over 
'Tis safe to say he did not live in clover. 
But roamed the pastures, when he lost his pull. 
And grazed himself to death: he was some bull. 

21 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Then next we come to Ruth, the Moablte : 

Her husband Chilfon (not her!) one night 

Blew out the gas, and Ruth was thus bereft; 

But Naomi, her Ma-in-Law, was left 

To comfort her: and jolly well she did it! 

For Ruth's great grief soon ceased or else she hid it. 

Then to Naomi's Land the two repaired, 

Their love enhanced by sorrows they had shared. 

And so the elder of the widowed twain 

Set out to find, for Ruth, another swain; 

And all her schemes, 'tis said, succeeded so as 

To marry Ruth to wealthy kinsman Boaz. 

Unselfish? No! She was too old to wed, 

So Ruth agreed to give her board and bed, 

Trusting to Boaz not to spoil her plan 

Who swallowed hook and line like any man. 

The attic room, or one just off the hall, 

Was where Naomi nightly had to crawl; 

And all her meals, unleavened bread and 'taters, 

Were eaten in the kitchen with the waiters, — 

For Boaz, when the hone)^moon was spent, 

Tightened his purse-strings — wouldn't spend a 

cent! 
And Naomi as welcome was, I think. 
As hungry roaches in the kitchen sink. 
This is the only case, — I know no other ! 

22 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Where widowed wife abided husband's mother; 
Or, where a woman, in such circumstance, 
Would give her son's relict another chance. 

There's Baal and those exalting Gods of brass; 
And Balaam, Prophet: but we'll let him pass! 
And John the Baptist, man who lost his head 
To fair Salome, tho she cut him dead. 
There's Absalom the Vain, whose hair was long. 
Who, in the final parting, got in wrong: 
And Pharaoh, with chariots and fighters 
Pursuing Moses and the Israeliters; 
Who, half-seas over, when the King dropped in. 
Punished the latter for his divers sin, 
And rescued on the Red Sea bar his folk, 
Athirst for freedom from the Ptolemy yoke. 

While yet the rushes bent beneath the blast 
Of Red Sea winds, a prodigy was cast. 
(From common mold, perhaps, but 'tis enough 
To know that he was made of proper stuff.) 
And little did the Tempest wot his noise 
Was silence likened to the bawling boy's. 
The Earth breathed on the shape and gave it speech, 
Or something vocally akin, a screech. 
Thus Moses had his coming out — and lo ! 
23 



The Bee's Bayonet 



He rushed into the arms of Fairy O 
(Daughter of Pharaoh, the mighty King) 
Who bore him to the Palace 'neath her wing. 
Fed on the Milk of Kindness to begin, 
With Medica Materia thrown in, 
He grew until appointed, by decree, 
To Little Egypt, Princess, the M.D. 
Thus Doctor Moses hung his shingle out, 
And soon his fame was heralded about. 
To doctors since, no fame like his doth cling: 
No Specialist: he doctored everything! 
He analyzed and stopped the human leak; 
(His patience was rewarded, so to speak) 
He charged his people to eschew the swine, 
And made the Ten Commandments seem benign. 
Not only as Physician did he rate. 
But as a Surgeon: he could amputate! 
He cut off Pharaoh in his pursuit 
And, by this operation, gained repute. 
He set his people right and made no bones 
Of driving lepers from the Safety Zones; 
He gave them tablets for their moral healing, 
Knowing their pulses without even feeling. 
His praises now resound from every lip 
Because he saved the Jews from Phar'oh's grippe. 
Still 'long the Nile the pink-winged curlews flock 
24 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Where Moses took his henchmen out of hock; 

The minions of i^olus hurtle on, 

Leaving a trail of foam the waves upon, — 

Stopping anon, where restless driftwood crushes 

The lotus pads that hover near the rushes, 

To chant a requiem and breathe a prayer 

Over the spot that cradled Moses there. 

If modern doctors would obey the rule 

Of common sense prescribed by Moses' School; 

If they would note our pulses and our looks 

Instead of feeling of our pocket-books 

And judging circulation by the latter, 

We'd sometimes know, perhaps, just what's the 

matter. 
What doctor now would diagnosis make 
And call it simple, old-time belly-ache. 
Charging a trifling fee to cure the pain? 
Ah, no ! those days will not return again ! 
No more, alas! will green-fruit cramps delight us, 
For colic now is styled appendicitis. 
By leaps and bounds have grown the " trifling 

fees"; f 

" Five hundred ! " now, succeeds " One Dollar, 

please! " 
And germs, in league with doctors, have their sta- 
tion 



25 



The Bee's Bayonet 



At vital points to force inoculation, 
So that our Systems pay a pretty price 
For ev'ry nostrum, ev'r}^ fake device 
Known to the School of Quacks: and so w^e suffer 
Imposed upon by patentee and duffer. 
O, for a Moses ! That's our crying need — 
To cure Physicians of unbridled greed 
And probe, no matter where it hurts, the cause 
Of Doctors' strange immunity from laws. 
O ! for an instrument — an act or sermon — 
Of Moses' kind — to cut the germ from German ! 
And lead them from the Wilderness of Vice 
Whose hearts were warm but now have turned to 
ice! 

All these and many more increase the lustre 
Distinguishing this brilliant Jewish cluster. 
And Abraham? We save him for the last, 
Tho first in line, renowned Iconoclast. 
Of all the Israelites, the men of mark, 
Who else compares with this grand Patriarch? 
And who besides, of all the racial roots, 
Developed half the lusty leaves and shoots, 
Strong limbs and branches, virile seed? some trunk! 
The Ark, with all this luggage, would have sunk! 
And so 'twere well the Deluge didst o'erwhelm 
26 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The Earth, ere this, with Noah at the helm, 

Else to preserve the chosen and elite 

Of Israel's line would needs have taxed a fleet. 

I love these ancient tribesmen who illumine 
The Archives of the Past : they were so human ! 
Their frailties were but habits of the Race 
Since Father Adam set the human pace 
Hitched up w^ith Eve who, chafing at the bit. 
Did well her part or bit, in spite of it. 
But all their mortal weaknesses were nil 
Compared with virtues that their Records fill; 
And good or bad, or medium or fair. 
No Tribe excelled their morals anywhere. 
They freely gave their tithes, but did it pay 
To advertise their wealth ? a give away ! 
And so their pockets have been worn and frayed 
By frequent contributions they have made 
To Charity and Church. I hope and pray 
They've saved a little for a rainy day! 
I think they have ! for Money talked, — confessed 
That Hebrews were the ones he liked the best. 
Because they never slighted or abused him, 
And always were so careful how they used him. 

And so, O Sons of Abraham, I say 
You've come into your own and come to stay! 
27 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The Promised Land is yours, but what is more, 
The Earth and Seas and Skies with all their store. 
You wandered from Judea, but why care? 
Because your home is here as well as there ; 
And we would miss you just as much, I vum, 
As those who wait you in Capernaum; 
For Broadway would despair and sackcloth don 
If you should leave New York for Ascalon. 

No more, thank God! will Infidels profane 

Jerusalem. For centuries the stain 

Of Turkish rule has laid its unclean hand 

Upon the Altars of the Holy Land. 

But now the Prophet's promise is fulfilled, 

And Jews and Gentiles are rejoiced and thrilled 

As Men of Allenby, God's Sword, restore 

The Holy City: yours forevermore. 



28 



ENGLAND 

O, Mighty Atlas, thou hast borne the load 
Of hapless peoples smarting from the goad 
Of Tyranny, until thy giant strength 
Seems overtaxed and doomed to break at length. 
Unless thy vim endures with steadfast force; 
Unless thy Ship of State keeps on its course; 
Unless thou gird thy loins and stand astride, 
Colossus-like, the struggles that betide — 
While all the Furies strive, the Turk and Hun, 
To sap thy power — undo what thou hast done 
Of what avail will all thy efforts be 
Against the tottering walls of Tyranny? 
And to what purpose will have lived thy men 
Who won imposing fame w^ith sword or pen? 
And what, I pray, will all thy thousands slain 
Avail thy Empire if they've died in vain? 



29 



PREPAREDNESS 

The Ostrich has his wings, but not for flight; 
He flies on foot when danger is in sight; 

His mate lays eggs upon the desert reaches 
And " sands " them over when the leopard screeches. 

The eggs, thus mounded, fall an easy prey 
To feline foragers who slink that way. 

The Ostrich, thus, guards not his nest: instead 
He hides, in burning sands, his shameless head 

And lets his monoplane and rudder be 
Stripped of their plumage by an enemy. 

Ostriches should Carry 
Their Eggs in a Basket 
And use their Feathers 
For Dusting over the Desert. 

The Squirrel is quite a different kind of fowl: 
He works while others sleep, the sly old owl! 
And stores up food, against the rainy day, 
In secret nooks, from forest thieves away. 
When winter comes, or when besieged by foes, 
Securely housed he feasts and thumbs his nose 
And ridicules starvation: he's immune! 
While others, shiftless, sing another tune. 
The Squirrel, you see, is much misfortune spared 
In times of stress because he is prepared. 



30 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Improvident Nuts 
Should Tear a Leaf 
From the Squirrel's Diary. 

A Heifer on the Railroad Crossing stood 
Chewing Contentment's Cud, as heifers should, — 
When, rushing madly, '' late again," there came 
The Noonday Mail. The Heifer was to blame 
For choosing her position, I would say, 
Because the Engine had the Right of Whey. 
The Cow was unprepared! Her switching tail 
Failed signally to flag the Noonday Mail. 
But why keep beefing over milk that's spilled? 
She heeded not the sign and thus was killed. 

Heifers with Unprotected 
Flanks should not Invite 
Rear-guard Actions. 

The Busy Bee improves the shining hours 

And gathers honey from the fragrant flowers. 

When Winter comes, forsaking field and rill, 

He hivernateSj but lives in clover still. 

While Famine stalks without, his Home, Sweet 

Home 
Is stored with tempting food from floor to dome. 
31 



The Bee's Bayonet 



He never lacks, nor has to buy, but cells 

His surplus food gleaned from the flower-fringed 

dells. 
A thrifty fellow is the Busy Bee 
And fortified against Emergency. 

A Bee's Ears 

Contain no Wax 

And he Saves his Combings 

Against the Baldness of Old Age. 

The Mule is well equipped but lacks the mind; 

His strategy is in his heels, behind. 

If pointed wrong, his practice is not dreaded, 

But kick he will, no matter how he's headed. 

With foresight lacking, hindsight to the fore, 

He'll be just simple Mule forevermore; 

Without the range or sight he'll blaze away 

And thwart his purpose with his brazen bray. 

If well-directed effort were his cult 

No fortress could withstand his catapult. 

A Mule should Conserve 
His Ammunition and 
Not Shoot-off his Mouth. 



32 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The Burglar, have you noticed? never troubles 

To look for petty loot In obscure hovels. 

He packs his kit and steals adown the road 

To Gaspard Moneybags' renowned abode. 

He knows the house-plan (" inside " dope, no 

doubt) 
And when he's i?i, old Moneybags is out. 
But Jimmy does not dent the window-sash; 
He enters thru the door and gets the cash. 
Prepared? Well, yes! He knew just where to 

look, 
For Nora hung the key upon the hook. 

Team-work is 
The Handmaiden 
Of Efficiency. 

It pays to be Prepared, you see, and so 
The Snail in Armored Car goes safe, tho' slow; 
And Alligators in their Coats of Mail 
Withstand assaults where those, defenceless, fail. 
The Tortoise totes his Caripace around 
And dwells in safety where his foes abound; 
While Wasps, with poisoned javelins, defend 
Successfully their offspring to the end. 
A Sheep with ramparts has no thought of fear, 
33 



The Bee's Bayonet 



But guards his buttress when his foes appear, 
And any Skunk can frighten and harass 
An Army with Asphyxiating Gas. 



34 



THE FUGITIVE KISS 

How I loved her! There on the gate we'd lean, 
(The dear, old gate that never gave away 

The loving nothings we were wont to say) 

• From day to day, 

And sometimes after dark; 

She was my Angel-Sweetheart, just sixteen. 

But I was shy! And while I longed to taste 

The nectar of her lips, I was afraid 
To draw her to my breast and kiss the Maid: 

But I essayed ! 
And this is what I drew — 

*' There's Papa with the bulldog, so make haste! " 

What could I do? The *' bark " was flecked with 
foam, 

And old man Jones was meaner than a cur; 
So there I stood 'twixt fear, and love of her 

And didn't stir 
Until they came : and then 

I kissed them all Good-bye and beat it home. 



35 



NEW MEXICAN NATIONAL ANTHEM 

My Country vast and grand, 
Sweet Montezuma Land, 

My Stingaree. 
Land of the Knife and Gun, 
Villa and Scorpion; 
Land of the Evil One 

I weep for thee! 

Smallpox and Rattlesnakes 
Lurk in thy Cactus brakes, 

And Yellow Jack. 
Spiders and Centipedes 
Gloat o'er thy murd'rous deeds: 
To cure thy crying needs. 

Call Diaz back. 

Tarantula and Flies 
Poison your lands and skies: 

Behold your graves! 
Carranza's waving beard 
By Pancho's Band is feared, 
And will be till he's sheared 

Or dyes or shaves. 

Horned Toads and Vampire Bats, 
Gilas and Mountain Cats, 
Where'er you go! 
36 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Buzzards and Vultures reign 
Over a million slain; 
And Mescal is the bane 
Of Mexico. 

O, Land of Chili con 
Carne and Obregon, 

Let murders cease! 
Keep Freedom's fires aglow 
Where La Frijoles grow; 
Throw up your Sombrero 

And Keep the Peace ! 



37 



LOVE 



I 



Love is the Mecca of our Heart's Desire : 
We worship at its shrine and feel its thrill; 
Burning our Hopes upon its Altar Fire 
Till Passion be consumed, but not until. 

II 

Then Love assumes a calmer mood, when spent 
His quiver empty and his bow unstrung — 
And peers into the pleasing Past, content 
To live, unmoved, his memories among. 



38 



STRONGARM'S WATERLOO 

Some drive! From tee to green in one: par, three! 

That's putting proper English on, you see! 

And, Goodness Golf us! See the ball roll up 

To easy putting distance from the cup. 

Who is this man? Professional, no doubt! 

He'll ** card " a thirty-seven going out; 

And if he gets the *' breaks " he'll make, methinks, 

A new low record for the Piedmont Links. 

See with what confidence he wends his way 

The Fairway thru to make his hole out play! 

The Gallery, expectant, follows thru 

To see the Champion go down in two. 

Then to the ball he makes his last address, 

(The ball was peeved at what he said, I guess) 

And pulls his gooseneck back a foot or so 

Before he hits the sphere the fateful blow. 

Alas for human frailty! See it flit 

Across the green into the sandy pit! 

The sighing winds, in protest, moaned Beware! 

While he invoked the Deity in prayer. 

And then he played his third, but topped the sphere. 

The Rubber Rogue responding with a leer. 

A halo hung around the Stranger's head 
It seemed: but, nay! 'twas brimstone fire instead, 
For what he said, in type is not displayed 
Except on fire-proof paper, I'm afraid. 
39 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Four! Five! Six! But still far from the goal! 
The Player loses all his self-control ' 

And breaks the "goose" in twain: then hark the 

din, 
When Caddie trails the ball and kicks it in! 

Far from the scene of strife the Club House becks 
The weary Golfers on their inward treks; 
And close beside, beneath the porch's shade, 
The Nineteenth hole dispenses lemonade 
And other cheering drinks, within the law; 
But little ice that cuts: who cares a straw? 



40 



THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE 

Yes! I've done my bit, as you fellows would say, 
If serving one's country deserves any praise: 
Two years at the front, then an arm shot away! 
And this is my " cross " in reward for those days. 
But I can do more! While there's blood in my 

veins 
I'll give the last drop, while the hoof of the Hun 
Polluted and cloven in Alsace remains: 
Until France is free we must fight: every one! 

Of course I'll go back to the trenches again: 
My wound is fast healing and soon will be sound ; 
Six chevrons have I, but I'll fight with the men 
Who fill up the shell-holes like moles in the ground. 
I'll charge with the Boys when they hurdle the top. 
The Tri-color lashed to my half-useless arm. 
With pistol or sword in my hand, till I drop: 
For Freedom is menaced: Go sound the alarm! 

France needs every son, be they crippled or strong. 
To rid our fair land of the murderous horde: 
So flock to the Colors, Brave Boys: come along! 
And fight till the Glory of France is restored! 
Our women are outraged, our children enslaved; 
Up, Frenchmen! and strike till the last dying breath! 
We can never turn back, so be it engraved 
On our spears and escutcheons, — Vengeance or 
Death! 

41 



WAR 

Down by the village runs the stream 
Once placid, now a raging flood: 

Behold it, by the day's last gleam 

Gorged with the dead and dyed with blood. 

The Chapel bell has tolled its last; 

The trees are bare, tho this be Spring: 
Death's shroud is on the village cast, 

And Ruin reigns o'er everything. 

A grist of carnage clogs the Mill, 

And shells have razed the quondam homes: 
Fresh graves the trampled vineyards fill, 

Whose cellars are but catacombs. 

Beyond the village. Refugees 

Stand, herded, cowed by fear and grief, 
Or, gassed, implore on bended knees 

For death, despairing of relief. 

With bayonets and faces set 

The Grenadiers, by L'Aiglon led. 

Present a gruesome parapet, — 

Thus, still defending, tho they're dead. 



42 



SONG OF THE SAMSONS 

We are Samsons, Biff! Boom! Bang! 
Here to pot the Potsdam Gang. 
If Bad Bill is found in Metz, 
We'll not vouch for what he gets! 
If in Essen he is caught, 
Good Night! Kultur, Him und Gott! 
Shades of Bismarck! Watch him faint 
When he finds his Empire aint! 

To our Sweethearts we said " Knit," 
We must go and do our Bit! 
How d'ye do, Pierrot? Pierrette? 
We are friends of Lafayette! 
Wait until our Drive begins, — 
Bill, you'll suffer for your sins! 
Sick 'em, Prince! We'll tie the fuse 
Onto Frederich Wilhelm's shoes. 

When we occupy Cologne — 

Phew! How big and strong you've grown! 

We will paint each shop and lodge 

With bright red in camouflage! 

Then to Carlsbad we will swing; 

Need the baths like everything! 

Frauleins leave your fears behind; 

We don't war on womankind! 



43 



The Bee's Bayonet 



We are filled with fire and zeal: 
Watch us pick the locks to Kiel! 
We are coming to our own 
In Lorraine across the Rhone! 
When our Flocks of Eaglets fly — 
Dunder! Blitzen! Bill, Good-bye! 
Beaks of Steel and Claws of Lead — 
Sun eclipsed! The Geezer's dead. 

CHORUS 

O, you U Boats, 

That for U ! 
We slipped thru you; 

Howdy do? 
Hindenberg? Ach, let him rant! 
He won't stop us 'cause he cant! 
Zepps and Taubs are falling down; 
Butcher Bill will lose his crown ; 
Watch your step, you Horrid Hun, 
You can't goose step when you run! 



44 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Hooray for the crimson, white and blue ! 
'Rah for Old Glory! Chapeau has vous! 
'Rah for the Tri-Color! We're at home 
In la belle France by the eau de Somme ; 
Hooray for our Allies true and brave ! 
We'll all sweep thru like a tidal wave 
Over the top in a mighty Drive — 
And never stop while the Hunds survive! 



45 



SIX DAYS 

O, the comfort we feel 

When we finish a meal 

Consisting of rice cakes and whey; 

Because beyond question 

There's no indigestion 

At the end of a Meatless day. 

When the " buck " dough doth rise 

From y'East to the skies 

And hot griddled pancakes — oh, say! 

With sausages frying 

There's no use denying 

Your welcome, O Wheatless day. 

When the house is afrost 
Without fuel: its cost 
Is more than we're able to pay: 
With our hearts all aglow 
We can thaw ice or snow 
Making light of a Heatless day. 

When there's discord with wife 

There's a shadow on life 

That once was so sunny and gay; 

But billing and cooing 

Subordinate stewing 

At the end of a Sweetless day! 

46 



The Bee's Bayonet 



When will beefsteak and ham 

Not be sold by the gram? 

How long will these high prices stay? 

When the bad Profiteers 

Show contrition and tears 

At the dawn of a Cheatless day. 

When our Soldiers in France 

Do their Indian dance 

And scalp all the Huns in the fray, 

The Kaiser will holler, 

With rope for a collar, 

At the end of his Ruthless day! 



47 



A PROTEST 

While now 'tis meet to eat fish, eggs and maize, 
Vice meat and wheat whene'er we dine or sup, 

So be it! but this protest I would raise — 
In spite of warnings — veal keeps bobbing up ! 



A PRAYER 

O Sun and Skies, that Hoover o'er our Fields 
Where Grains implanted lie, and Silos stand, — 

Pour out thy Warmth and Rains till Hunger yields 
Thruout the World to our blest Fodder\?ind.\ 



48 



SINCE THE LITTLE ONE CAME 

I seem to have taken a new lease on life 

Since the little one came; 
I've lost the old grouch, and I say to my wife, 

Do you think I'm to blame 
Because I have changed in my feelings towards you 

Since the Little One came? 
The furnace, 'tis true, gave me something to do, 

But I think it a shame 
That some tiny tie like the Little One here 

(How is Snooks for a name?) 
Was not sooner left on our doorstep, my dear! 

The Store takes my time, but a very small part, — 

It's all over at four! 
I've cut Clancy's out and have made a new start; 

All my cronies are sore! 
But what do I care? I have mended my ways, 

So I rush from the Store 
And hasten back home where the Little One plays 

On the rugged hall floor. 
And pick him up quick (O, how pretty he looks!) 

Without shutting the door; 
So anxious I am to caress little Snooks. 

The chafing-dish chafes and the Joy-car is sore ; 
We have given them up ! 
49 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The Two-step and Bridge are tabooed evermore; 

There is Joy in our Cup! 
We've cut out the movies and dining about 

For our own modest sup ; 
And billiards and golfing, I've cut them both out! 

As I did to the Hup. 
With playthings and drum (and a ruppy, tup, tup!) 

Loaded up like a Krupp, 
I beat it to Snooky, — our English Bull Pup. 



50 



RUN ALONG, LITTLE GIRL! 

Run along, Little Girl! for it's bed-time now: 
Your Dollies are sleepy and poor old Bow-wow 
Is weary and lonesome, curled up in a heap — 
'Twould take little rocking to put him to sleep! 
Your Teddy Bear's growling: or is it a snore? 
Perhaps he objects to his bed on the floor? 
So pick up your treasures and when praj^ers are 

said — 
Run along, Little Girl, and climb in to bed ! 



Run along. Little Girl! The Sandman is here; 
You've crowded too much into one day, I fear! 
Poor, little, tired Girlie, you've worked at your 

play 
Till the bloom of your cheeks has faded away. 
To-morrow, again, you can sit by the fire 
And dress all your Dollies in gala attire. 
Say, Good Night! to your thimble, needle and 

seams ; 
Run along. Little Girl, and sweet be your dreams! 



Run along, Little Girl, and cover up tight! 
There's nothing to harm you, no spooks in the night 
Nor Bogeymen glaring when you are awake; 
For they're bad little girls that Bogeymen take. 
51 



The Bees Bayonet 



To-morrow Bow-wow can be hitched to your sled 
And draw you to Grandma's to see Piggie fed ; 
No harm can befall you when Mother is near ; 
Run along, Little Girl, and God bless you, Dear! 



52 



A RETROSPECT 

Picture a Home with love aglow and laughter 

Reverberating from each joist and rafter; 

A sweet-faced Mother kissing you " Good Night "! 

With " Go to sleep! lest Santa Claus take fright 

And dashes by — leaving no books or toys 

For naughty, wide-eyed, little girls and boys." 

Then see her tip-toe down the stairs, and trim 

The tree — a toy on ev'ry outstretched limb ; 

The rocking-horse and wagon at the base, 

And candy-stockings in the big fireplace: 

For thus we retrospect to show, no other 

Would scheme and work and " fabricate " like 

Mother 
To make our Christmas Day a grand fruition, 
And keep the secret of its sweet tradition. 



53 



THE EAGLE SCREAMS 

We have arrived! America is First! 

Here Freedom cradled; here its paean burst 

Upon the ears of nations, near and far 

Till Light of Freedom is the Guiding Star 

Thruout the w^orld; though Thraldom still obscures 

The Guiding Star where Tyranny endures. 

'Twas ever thus till Boston's " Reb " array 

Upset King George's teapot in the Bay, 

And Pegasus, whom we Revere, astride 

His high-bred hobby, w^arned the countryside. 

Before that time the Briton played the game 

Of pour la tea or Golf (its proper name). 

With confidence and brassie nerve, methinks. 

Until they struck a Bunker on our links 

That thwarted all their prowess — 'pon my soul! 

And left them groggy at the nineteenth hole. 

But still they puttered 'round and drank our rum 

Till Washington's avenging time had come; 

When, with his army, steeled at Valley Forge, 

He, George the First, uncrowned the other George, 

And all the " red-breasts," from our eyries shooed 

Where now the Bird of Freedom guards his brood. 



54 



THE SERVICE STAR 

The stars are agleam in their azurine field, 
Diffusing effulgence afar; 
But magnitude, lustre and fixedness yield 
To the glorious Service Star. 

In aureate setting, a pendant aglare, 
Is the radiant Service Star; 
That blazes with fire like a rare solitaire, 
A gift to the Valkyr of War. 

Protect thou our treasure, O, Valkyr! Restore 
Our Jewel so priceless! and bar 
From Valhalla's Dungeons, where Death's tor- 
rents pour, 
Our sanctified Service Star! 



55 



SOME DAY 

Some day when the war is ended 

And we sail from France away, 

With sorrow and longings blended, 

Back home to America; 

And we live once more in Blighty 

A thousand years in a day. 

In the Land of God Almighty 

Where the Old Folks watch and pray: 

Some day, when we hit the pillow 

Again on a box-spring bed, 

As snug as an armadillo 

With his shell-protected head; 

When bugles refrain from tooting, 

And noises of battle stop; 

When victory ends recruiting. 

Or charging Over the Top: 

Soine day! when we're thru with fighting 

And the beaten Hun retreats; 

When the Cooties cease from biting 

And we sleep between the sheets! 



S6 



THE CRUISE OF THE SEA SERPENT 

And now behold the Merchant Submarine! 

Only its peeking periscope is seen, 

But what a cyclorama it reveals 

To those below! Thru surging seas it steals 

And vies with dolphins, porpoises and sharks 

To keep apace with brigantines and barks; 

And, tho itself unseen, it's proud to show 

To what low depths a submarine can go. 

The Cyclops sees as well by night as day; 

Its father, Neptune, gives it right of way: 

Amphibious, it rides the Ocean's crest, 

Or in its sunken Gardens takes its rest. 

This new-type boat we designate as It 

Because no other pronoun seems to fit. 

No water-laden craft could be a He, 

Nor one unspoken could be rated She. 

The Germans call it unter: O. U. Cargo! 

They aim to close the bar on the embargo. 

Beneath the waves no lurching doth it feel 

But speeds its course upon an even keel. 

With duplex engines and a double crew, 

(It's ''manned" by mermaids when it's hid from 

view). 
It scoffs at dangers, tho they lurk around, 
And shuts its eye to perils that abound. 
There's scant spare space, but still its ribs enfold 
A priceless cargo in its shallow hold. 
57 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Past hostile ships into a neutral haven, 

It comes up smiling with all flags a wavin'. 

But now these " Cargo Craft " throw off disguise 

And cut our neutral throats: it's no surprise 

That dastards, who as " scraps of paper " rate 

Their solemn Treaties, would thus lie in wait 

And murder innocents without emotion, 

Making a shambles of the outraged Ocean. 

Now lashed to fury, see the waves rebel 

And sweep these Prussian Pirates down to Hell! 

No longer neutral the Avenging Sword 

Is in our hands to smite the Hun-hound horde. 

The God of Joshua, in righteous wrath 

Will, in its flight thru empyrean path, 

Command the Sun to stop: it is His will! 

Till Kultur be effaced — and not until. 



58 



AMERICA 

America, Crusader in the Cause 

Of Liberty, before thy shrine we pause 

And offer grateful prayer that thou art Right 

In making demonstration of thy Might. 

Without a thought of Conquest doth thou draw 

Thine honored sword for Liberty and Law, 

That Nations of a common tongue, tho weak, 

May gain the Peace with Freedom that they seek 

And occupy again, when battles cease. 

Their places in the Firmament of Peace. 

Fight on! Defender of the Cause! till Truth 

Shall banish Tyranny and Wars forsooth, 

And throttle Kultur and its godless School, 

Till Teutons, purged, obey the Golden Rule! 



59 



LIFE AND LOVE 

Life is the Echo of the Buried Past; 
A Soul reclaimed, an Atom born anew : 
Its fire burns on, tho flickering at the last. 
And finds its grand fulfillment, Love, in you. 



LIFE IN DEATH 

Why should we dread the Messenger of Death? 
Who comes as friend when sufferings beset. 
And gives surcease of pain with final breath 
So that Life leaves, rejoiced, without regret. 



60 



GERMANY 

O, Hun, from what low beast didst thou descend? 

That thou shouldst have the lust to kill and rend; 

The bestial passion to enjoy the groans 

Of suffering victims, while you crunch their bones 

Or gouge their eyes, that mutely plead in vain 

For quick oblivion and ease from pain? 

Of ponderous cast and savage mien, what teat, 

With Hatred filled and Passion's fiery heat. 

Reared thee more wolf than man? ill-bred, — a curse 

To thine own kind, and to the Universe! 



6i 



ITALY 

Italians, hold! Rienzi pleads again 
Against the Tyrants: hold if ye be men! 
Let not the foe despoil your fertile lands 
Or wrest historic treasures from your hands! 
Guard well your daughters! Shield j^our budding 

sons! 
Lest they be maimed or murdered by the Huns. 
Soldiers of Italy, w^ould ye be slaves 
To Teuton hordes? Behold the sacred graves 
Of Garibaldi and your martyred dead 
Who made ye Freemen! Wouldst be slaves in- 
stead ? 
The Alpine Passes that were yours are lost; 
Your Northern Rivers have been reached and 

crossed ; 
Hold, Romans, hold! Halt further Teuton gains, 
And drive their looting legions from your plains! 
Hold! Men of Italy! Your wall of steel 
Can save fair Venice from the Despot's heel: 
Hold! Every man! for Honor, Country, Home — 
And for the Glory of Eternal Rome! 



62 



MARY IS MERRY NO MORE 

The Lamb that accompanied Mary 
Without aid of cudgel or rope, 

Was raised by her sire Elder Berry, 
And washed with dioxygen soap. 

Its fleece, like the linen-spread table, 

Was sno\<^-white : the lambkin was prized 

And kept from the sheep in the stable 
Who never were deodorized. 

The lamb had a yearning for knowledge. 
And schoolward would follow the lass 

Till she was admitted to college, 
A graduate out of his class. 

Then sheep-eyes were made by the teacher. 

And Mary was quick to decide 
'Twixt him and the poor, woolly creature 

Who made lambentations and died. 

She married her Teacher, — a lesson ! 

Dyspeptic and old, he's a fright! 
Her thoughts fail of fitting expression. 

So she lams her own kids just for spite. 
She looks at her spouse with deep loathing, 

And sighs for her dead quadruped, 
And wishes the *' wolf in sheep's clothing " — 

63 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Her husband, were dead in his stead. 
Alas, lass! You've forded the ferry; 

Your tombstone was graven for two; 
The lamb, chiseled there, stands for Mary, 

And the Old Ejiglish Mary for yew. 
The lamb reached the end of his tether 

When Mary ascended on High, 
But surely, in spite of the wether, 

They'll meet in the Sweet Bye-and-Bye. 



64 



I SHOT AN ARROW 

I shot an arrow: how it sang! 

It was a poisoned arrow! 
And when it turned, a boomerang, 

It chilled me to the marrow. 

I know not where the arrow struck. 
And care but little whether 

It came straight back or ran amuck 
Upon the near-by heather. 

But this 1 know; however fast 
The arrow homeward scurried. 

My getaway was unsurpassed — 
For, Goodness, how I hurried! 



65 



FIXING THE BLAME 

The almost-King of Verdun, still uncrowned, 
Wearied of driving, walked the ramparts 'round 
To see his father, Mr. William Kaiser, 
Who was to him an Oracle and wiser. 
"O Sire! Inform me! Tell your first-born son, 
Who caused the War, and why it was begun? 
Who slipped the leash, and what was the excuse 
For turning Europe's rabid War Dogs loose? 
Did you? Or was it Cousin George, or Nick 
Who stacked the cards and played the dirty trick? 
Or was it Joe, or Ferdinand, or Grey 
Who sawed the bridge and pulled the props away ? " 

" My Son, I swear by all the periscopes 
And Zeppelins to which I pin my hopes; 
By all the Ocean Sharks and Bats a-sky. 
By Gott-in-Himmel! As I hope to die, 
Fm not to blame! I didn't use the spurs. 
Or try to overwork Geographers ! 
I fought for Peace, and ne'er defiance hurled, 
Altho' the Fatherland should rule the world. 
But here's the truth: a secret I'll disclose! 
A stranger 'twas who made us come to blows! 
It happened thus: a mighty Nimrod came 
From Afric wilds, where he had played the game 
Until his cudgel bore a hundred nicks, 
(A record this for all Prodigious Sticks) 
66 



The Bee's Bayonet 



To Germany. No pussj'^foot was his, 

But there was courage in his Nobel phiz; 

And in his stride were energy and grace 

Enough to make the goose-step commonplace. 

I took him to my Palace, as my guest, 

And poured libations from the cellar's best, 

(He was a certified non-drinker — See? 

So just accord this proper secrecy!) 

And then arranged to hold a Grand Review 

Of all my Armies and Reservists too. 

' De-lighted ! ' said my guest, and nothing more. 

As we reviewed my legions corps by corps; 

But this blunt comment signified his zeal, 

And so I mobilized my fleet at Kiel; 

And on my Royal Yacht, my guest and I 

Watched the maneuvres as my ships passed by. 

' De-lighted, Bill ! ' the Hardy Hunter shouted — 

* With such a fleet I'd have the whole world routed ; 

And with your armies I would soon disperse 

The Fighting Units of the Universe ! ' 

Such praise was pleasing to my ears, altho 

My Wasps and Devil-fish I didn't show: 

I deemed it best to ineld this ' hundred aces ' 

When all my ships and men were in their places. 

Had he seen these, I knew he would advise 

The conquest of the Earth and Seas and Skies: 

67 



The Bee's Bayonet 



But, Shades of Bismarck! that^ you understand 

Might prove a strain upon the Fatherland. 

And so I kept the Peace, but thought about 

The many martial plans we figured out; 

And how the cost of my Frontier Defences 

Compared with his proposed campaign expenses. 

You see, Mein Heir, this man was full of guile 

And caused the War: this Bey of Oyster Isle. 

He hypnotized me: put it in my mind 

To be the Potentate of all Mankind! 

So blame me not! The fault I must disown, 

And put the guilt on Theodore alone! 

Whatever comes anon, I'm not whipped yet! 

And with it all, I have but one regret — 

That he was not impressed to lead my drive 

To Petersburg to take the Czar alive; 

And then, a Marshal, ordered to Paree 

To capture it and bring it back to me; 

Then take my fleet, the English Channel over 

And put King George to rout and bombard Dover; 

And then supplant the Sultan, take his Fez 

And lead my peerless Forces to Suez. 

While you have failed, and Hindenburg and Mack, 

He never fizzles when he makes attack. 

See what I've missed! for, see what he has done! 

And yet his vast campaign is just begun. 



68 



The Bee's Bayonet 



He leads his Legions, Bull Moose, Calf and Cow 
To capture a Convention even now." 



An orderly approached the Royal Pair 
Just at this stage and left despatches there. 
He stood at close attention, hand to head, 
While this absorbing cablegram was read — 
"Outflanked and captured; resignation tendered; 
Mooses dehorned and all the herd surrendered! 
Am looking for another job already, — 
Would take the German Presidency — Teddy." 



The Kaiser turned, looked at the Prince and wept, 
While noxious gases o'er the bulwarks crept. 



69 



LOVE'S RECOMPENSE 

" Do you really, truly love me, with a love that 

mocks at Fate? " 
Cried the rustic, buxom maiden to her lover at the 

gate ; 
"Yes, my Pet! And when Dame Fortune smiles 

upon us we will wed; 
I will strew your path with roses: Bear me wit- 
ness, Gods o'erhead!" 
Thus he spake unto his sweetheart, under Heaven's 

starry blue. 
And the angels, smiling on him, heard his vow to 

*' e'er be true." 
Then he placed his arms around her — kissed her : 

they were in a trance! 
And two soles toward Heav'n were lifted as the 

bulldog grabbed his pants. 



70 



ADAM'S ALE 

Come, Comrades, gather 'round the festal board 
And quaff the sparkling Water from the gourd ! 
This is the drink that Adam's Tribe imbibed 
Before the Wines of Gath were diatribed. 
(Methinks some other brand was drunk by Cain 
The day that Abel ruthlessly was slain.) 
And won, against all other potions there, 
The First White Ribbon at the Gaza Fair. 
You'll never know, until you take a sip 
Its power to soothe, and cool the fevered lip. 
Had Noah stuck to water he would shine 
As undisputed Master of the Brine. 
The Water-wagon that he launched, at first 
Steered Noah straight but didn't cure his thirst: 
So when he spoke the Ararat Cafe 
He soon fell off, — his rudder washed away. 
But wallward turn the picture you're beholding 
And hang more cheerful paintings on the moulding! 
Behold a watercolor of eclat! 
This, fair Rebecca had the skill to draw: 
She stands beside the well and plies the sweep, 
While sweat and blushes o'er her features creep. 
Such grace and poise, such strength and skill, 
Such sweeping gestures and unbending will 
Are indices of Abstinence complete; 
(We can't abstain from loving you. Petite!) 
71 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Upon her head she rests the dripping urn 
And goes straight home: she doesn't dare to turn! 
Don't stumble, Miss! Or suffer teasing boys 
To cause derangement of your equipoise! 
But keep your head and waver not at all 
Lest you be deluged by the waterfall! 
So daily to the pool Rebecca strayed 
And drank the water, when she didn't wade: 
And thus her framework waxed like iron ; I trust 
'Twas ne'er assailed or undermined by rust. 
So, fill the gourd and pass it to your friend! 
It's Safety First and safety to the end. 
No headaches lurk within, no tinge of sorrow, 
No dark forebodings or remorse to-morrow! 
And furthermore, it isn't hard to take: 
If you've not tried it, do, for Mercy's sake! 
Behold the Oaken Bucket, hanging high. 
By Bards and Singers lauded to the sky. 
It never touched, in all its useful days, 
A thing but water. Here fair Psyche plays 
Beside the spring that mirrors all her graces. 
(Would you object to water in such cases?) 
Now mark the fate befalling Jack and Jill 
Because they slipped and let the water spill; 
And see poor Tantalus for water crying. 
Thus punished for his sins, — athirst and dying! 
72 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And note this " Titian," called " The Drunkard's 

Fate," 
In which the crimson hues predominate. 
He holds the lamp-post in his close embrace 
And has a package from Pat Murphy's place 
To carry home. His eyes are red and dim, 
So close the bar and turn the hose on him ! 
This drink was ever priceless, yet it's free; 
The Source and Fountain of Sobriety; 
And so we of^er without bar or price 
Enough of THIS to put your thirst on ice. 
So drink to water, while the billows swell: 
The World wants Prohibition — and all's well ! 



73 

) 



RUSSIA 

Canst Thou, in all this babel, build aright 
Freedom's Palladium? The long, black night 
That, ages thru, hath dimmed your yearning eyes 
And dulled your minds, still hovers o'er your skies. 
A rift there was, disclosing to your view 
The Dawn of Day, but then the darkness grew 
Yet more intense, as if the Sun rebelled 
At such a cheerless greeting and withheld 
Its Light. And now again Night reigns supreme, 
But just be5^ond the Day is all agleam. 



74 



BELGIUM 

Sad-eyed and weary, Thou must suffer more, 

Until thy supermen have paid the score 

For outraged daughters, murdered sons and wives 

For ravaged homesteads, and brave soldiers' lives. 

Be not dismayed! Altho your Cup of Woe 

Is full to overflowing from the blow; 

Tho Justice seems indifferent to your prayer, 

And ruin stalks about you everywhere. 

The day of reckoning is near at hand, 

When Justice will restore your pillaged Land, 

And Vengeance will unsheath its righteous blade 

And flay the Teutons till your score is paid. 



75 



OUR FRIENDS ACROSS THE STREET 

(To S. and W. A.) 

When we're tired of reading essaj^s, 

Tho they be a mental treat; 
When we're bored by social callers, 

Be they ever so elite; 
When we crave some relaxation 

Or the Foursome's incomplete, 
We S. O. S. or telephone 

To our Friends across the Street. 

When our larder needs renewing 

Or our ice succumbs to heat ; 
When the signs of Drought are brewing 

'Cause our " stock " is incomplete ; 
And our chairs are insufficient 

When we have some guests to seat. 
Why, we just go out and borrow 

From our Friends across the Street. 

When we're worried or in trouble, 

And our projects meet defeat; 
When our prospects seem quite hopeless, — 

Life seems bitter that was sweet ; 
When we lose our nerve and falter 

'Cause the rough way wounds our feet, 
We can always find sweet comfort 

In our Friends across the Street. 

76 



The Bee's Bayonet 



When we end, at last, our journey 

And the saintly Peter greet. 
Or descend to Realms Infernal 

Where the Goats, rejected, bleat. 
We would never feel contented, 

Whether mixed with Chaff or Wheat, 
If we couldn't be together 

With our Friends across the Street. 



77 



EPITAPHS 

I left this Vale of Tears to gain repose, 

And change, for Harp and Wings, my worldly 
clothes ; 

There's no redress, so if I fall from grace 
I'll be quite cool enough for either place. 

Wed 

Bled 

Fled 

Dead 

Nufsed 

Go not the way I went, O Mortal Man ! 

But follow out a more successful plan, 
Lest you, as I am now, remorseful be 

For imitating U. S. Currency. 

For forty cents an hour I slaved 

At Delpont's Powder Mills; 
And all the money that I saved 

Scarce paid my funeral bills. 

Erected to our father is this stone: 

He couldn't leave the whiskey flask alone; 

To Spirit World he vanished from our sight; 
We hope he's very snug, and know he's tight. 



78 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Above the clouds I sojourn now, 

The twinkling stars between, 
Because I tried to figure how 

To cook with gasolene. 

I'm dead all right, but not quite all right dead, 
For schemes of vengeance hurtle thru my head; 

My wife eloped, a cheating chicken she; 
Forsook her nest, and then flew back to me 

With all her brood: I love her as I useter 
But I'm a-laying for that other Rooster. 

I followed Father with the rake 

The day he scythed the clover; 
So green, he cut me, by mistake 

And my /jf);days were over. 

Here sleeps, at last, our little baby Yorick! 
We couldn't make him without paregoric, 

I'm not averse to being dead, 

But this I do despise, — 
To have a tombstone at my head 

Inscribed with blooming lies: i 

*' A faithful spouse, a parent kind ; 

Alas, too soon he went ! " 

79 



The Bee's Bayonet 



But this is all they had in mind — 
To get my last red cent. 

Assembled here my Wife is, Helen Nation: 
'Twas gasoline that caused the separation, 

Which shows how very short the mortal lease is,- 
I think 'twas lucky to have saved the pieces! 

Here let me rest without a sigh or tear, 
I've learned my lesson — not to interfere! 

If I could live my mortal life agin 
I'd be a pussyfoot and not butt in. 

My Mother, famous for her pies 

Lies buried 'neath this shaft; 
I wonder if, in Paradise, 

She still pursues her craft? 
She'll be too much engrossed, 'twould seem, 

In picking on the lyre 
To give attention to a scheme 

To bake without a fire. 
But if perchance she had the dough 

And couldn't make it rise, 
I'm sure she'd know just where to go 

To look for heat supplies. 



80 



The Bee's Bayonet 



He called me " Liar! " Like a flash 

My honor I defended, 
Until his razor cut a gash 

So deep, that I was ended. 
If I could live my life again 

I'd not invite an issue 
But say, when villified. Amen! 

And thus preserve my tissue. 



8i 



THE CONQUEST OF THE SUN 

The Morning Sun, with golden dart, 

Crept to Milady's bed; 
And as he drew the screens apart 

A halo crowned her head. 

Such radiance he'd never viewed; 

Enraptured, he surveyed 
Her virgin charms: beatitude! 

He stooped and kissed the maid. 

Entranced because her splendor seemed 

To dazzle as it shone, 
He conjured all his wiles and beamed 

Her burning cheeks upon. 

And then she woke, Milady fair, 

Enchanted by his art. 
To find, 'midst fires a slumb'ring there, 

His dart had pierced her heart. 

And so the Morning Sun can gain 

Milady when he tries. 
But Midnight Sons must lose, 'tis plain, 

Because they're late to rise. 



82 



OWED TO A ROACH 

O, Thou, who thru the sink doth blithely go; 
(O, Little Roach, how could you sirik so low?) 
Who pipeth all your kin from kitchens near 
Wherever crumbs of comfort may appear; 
Who layeth siege, in mural cracks or trenches, 
Where grease spots lure or rampant be the stenches ; 
Who hideth in the dough when bread is rising, — 
I ask you to a Feast, of my devising, — 
To eat these powders, 'round the plumbing placed, 
Until your glutted carcass be effaced. 
O, Little Roach, if you would selfish be 
And not " ring in " your whole fool family. 
We'd tolerate you: nay, a pet would make you 
If you'd not scamper all our pie and cake thru! 



83 



THE MOODS OF THE WINDS 

O, Breezes of Spring! 
How they rollick and ring 
With delight as they sing 
Like birds on the wing. 

O, Zephyrs of May! 
With your balm and bouquet; 
How you gladden the day 
Like Fairies at play. 

O, Winds of the Fall! 
How they thrill and enthrall, 
How they hurtle and call 
With shrill caterwaul. 

O, Winter's bleak Breath ! 
How it freezes and saith 
To the ice-vested wraith, 
"Thou'rt shrouded in Death." 



84 



THE TOXIC TIPPET 

'Tis said that Mary, she of Reader note, 

Was wrapped up in her lamb — her lambskin 

coat — 
E'en after his demise, beatified. 
He served her well, and for his mistress dyed. 

Then Mary died, and took angelic form. 
Because the lambskin (used to keep her warm) 
Gave her the anthrax: what a cruel blow 
To be thus snatched above from furbelow! 



85 



TWENTY-THIRD PSALM 

My Shepherd careth for His flock: 

Beneath a cloudless sky 
In pastures green, by spring-cleft rock, 

In luxury I lie. 

He brings contentment to my soul 
And leads me to the Light, 

By which I see the Heav'nly goal 
From dismal depths of Night. 

Though Poverty attend my way 
And sorrow fills my heart, 

Thy Guidance will disaster stay. 
So good and pure Thou art ! 

Thou, in the presence of my foes, 

Bestoweth favors rare. 
And giveth pleasure and repose 

In answer to my prayer. 

To such a Shepherd I will give 

My everlasting love, 
And glory in the Hope — to live 

With Him, at last. Above. 



FRIENDSHIP 

True Friends are rare: who counts them by the 

score 
Is blest indeed, for we have, seldom, more. 
If we possess just one real, trusting friend 
Who shares our troubles, loyal to the end; 
Who, when we fall, will help us to our feet; 
Who finds with us contentment most complete; 
Whose pocket-book and heart are open thrown 
Whether we need affection or a loan. 
And makes no record of the favor done. 
But gives, with equal pleasure, either one — 
That's Friendship true! If I had twenty such. 
With all their purses open to my touch. 
And each disposed to " stake " me and forget 
The circumstance and measure of the debt, 
I'd soon be on the road to ease and plenty. 
But wish I had such friendships more than twenty. 



87 



PARAMOUNT PROBLEMS 

Shall Women vote? Shall Demon Rum survive 
Or be, thru Woman Suffrage, flayed alive? 
These are the questions that engross the nation : 
Shall Women vote or be kept on probation? 
Are they not gentle, honest, sweet and kind ? 
A single missing virtue we can't find. 
And yet we say — '* Stay home and can the cher- 
ries! 
You're far too frail and fine for statecraft worries! 
The Sacred Home for you ! Just 'tend your chicks ! 
You'd soil your hands to mix in Politics! 
And then there's scrubbing, cooking and a few 
Odd jobs besides: you couldn't ballot too!" 
But how absurd! Fair Woman, in her wrath, 
Will make our future course a thorny path: 
Unless we meet her fairly in these matters. 
She'll tear our senseless arguments to tatters. 
And rule both Home and State to suit herself, 
Putting deceitful man upon the shelf. 
As sure as death or taxes, day or night, 
She'll have the vote without, or with a fight; 
And those of us who counsel Peace, as best. 
Should not oppose and put her to the test; 
And when she gets the vote, by force or gift. 
The clouds obscuring Temperance will lift; 
For all the Wets will vanish, ev'ry one! 
Evaporate like mists before the sun. 



The Bee's Bayonet 



True, Women drink; it's foolish to deny it! 

But not as men do — as a steady diet ; 

They'll take a punch, or sip a little claret, 

But when it comes to liquor — they can't bear it. 

And so we ask again — shall Women vote ? 

Shall men surrender to the petticoat 

And give up all their freedom and their tipples 

Just to return to Lacteal Life and Nipples? 

The War is on! Nebraska bids defiance 

To Rum Dispensers and the Booze Alliance: 

Hereafter all our barley, wheat and corn 

Will be quite unresponsive to the horn. 

The essence of the grain will be tabooed 

And ev'ry seed accounted for as food. 

No more will Barleycorn assail our vitals 

Or be the Leader in our Song Recitals: 

No more will Liquor check our ardent thirst, 

And so we'll go from bad, perhaps, to worst. 

If we must eat, perforce, and never rum it, 

What will befall the man who has to gum it; 

Whose teeth are absent and who food eschews. 

Drawing his daily nourishment from booze; 

Who can't obtain a single drop of gin 

To comfort and sustain the man within? 

Pleading for drinks, unheeded he'll grow wheezy, 

But he'll improve his breath if he'll Speak Easy. 

89 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The Drunkard's fate would be a dreadful warn- 
ing, 
Who, having " opened " Riley's place each morn- 
ing 
Found, one cold dawn, the foot-rail gone and 

read — 
" Soft Drinks for Sale " where Schnapps was sold 

instead. 
Picture his sorrow! See him pallid grow 
When told the facts: a spectacle of woe! 
Back to his wife he slinks: he couldn't face her! 
Because he missed his usual " morning bracer." 
The Place is sold: it's now a candy store 
Where Schnapps will be dispensed with evermore. 
Good-bye, Old Demijohn; Decanters, too! 
His life will empty be — and so are you! 
Where once the Canteen flourished 'neath our flag, 
Now Prohibition flags the soldier's jag; 
And where Josephus keeps his arid log 
The water-pitcher has succeeded grog. 
Some Commonwealths already have the pluck 
To ban, humanely, those who chase the duck; 
And other States have punished Rum enough 
To have compassion on the boot-leg stuff. 
Thus Prohibition grows: but so does wheat 
And corn and rye: I wonder which will beat? 



90 



The Bee's Bayonet 



But what of Woman? Where's her rightful free- 
dom? 
They ought to have the vote, because we need 'em 
To purge our land of drunkenness and crime 
And save our striplings from the slough and slime. 
Why shouldnt Women vote? Perhaps they may! 
Should Drunkards or Illiterates say nay? 
Could citizens of foreign birth refuse 
To give our Native Daughters what they choose? 
Our Native Sons with chivalry invoke 
Fair play for women, — freedom from the yoke ; 
And shouldn't other Freemen rise in flocks 
To help our Women win the Ballot Box? 
The trouble lies, not here, but with the Bosses 
Who trade in graft and deal in double crosses. 
The sooner we eliminate this class 
The quicker will full freedom come to pass. 
But watch the Anti! Make her hold her tongue. 
Or duck her in the pond, the geese among; 
Or lock her in the booth, without a mirror, 
Where she can't see herself and we can't hear her. 
Thus, neck and neck, these two great questions 

lead: 
Will men be equal to their Country's need? 
If one Reform upon the other waits. 
Speed Equal Suffrage to the White House gates, 
91 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And Prohibition (Farewell, Dear old Liquor!) 
Will follow as the tape pursues the ticker! 
But if, perchance, the Dry's should get a trimmin', 
Smile J if you please, — but don't prohibit Women! 



92 



A REUNION 

Once more, Good Friends, we're gathered 'round 

the board 
To feel the joys of fellowship restored. 
There's nothing like them! Friends can't be re- 
placed, 
Nor thoughts of them from Memory be effaced ! 
Of course we form new friendships, but I feel 
That these, like old ones, are not staunch and real. 
It takes long years to pj-ove our friends, you know, — 
Those who are steadfast In our weal or woe. 
So here's to you. Miss Prim! and you, Miss Prude! 
We wouldn't have you different if we could! 
Two Roses rare you are, and sweet; I ween 
You were not doomed to bloom and blush unseen. 
I've seen your cheeks suffused with crimson hues; 
(Dame Nature's make-up is the rouge you use!) 
I've seen your lips in saucy challenge perked ; 
(But for your protests, they'd be overworked!) 
I've seen your eyes with mischief filled and tears; 
(But I could never pity you, My Dears!) 
I've seen your breasts with agitation heave; 
(Your hearts must be affected, I believe!) 
I've seen your shapely forms pass in review 
Before my lonely couch, in dreams of you, — 
And what I haven't seen, some little bird 
Has told me all about. Upon my word, 
If what he says be true, what I have heard 
93 



The Bee's Bayonet 



To what I've seen, methinks, would be preferred. 
Then here's to Friendship! What more potent 

force 
Doth link mankind together? Love, of course, 
Doth fetter us betimes, but Time must say 
Whom we shall cherish, whom to cast away. 
When Love and Friendship, heart and hand, are 

bound, 
What more of Joy can compass us around? 
So, Friends and Sweethearts, Comrades tried and 

true. 
We pledge our love and loyalty to you ! 



94 



THE CRUISE OF THE SQUIRREL 

Somewhere, sometime, I've heard it said, or read 
That Fools butt in where Angels fear to tread. 
A single " Angel " with a Pack of Fools 
Is not enough to change established rules; 
And so, I think, the " Angel " in this case 
Should bear, alone, the onus and disgrace, — 
For Angels should know better than to swoop 
Upon the Dove of Peace and fowl her coop. 
The Good Ship Squirrel has left our shores behind 
To measure human breath 'gainst Ocean Wind. 
" Laden with Nuts " her clearance shows. Four 

Bells! 
She's off! to fight for Peace with all those shells. 
No Port, however, figures in her quest, 
Her "papers" show, — and this is manifest! 

The Dove of Peace, perched on the mizzen-top. 
Hath disappointments sticking in her crop. 
The peaceful bird is shy and very frail; 
Can't stand the weight of salt upon her tail; 
The War has made her nervous, and the roar 
Of many cannon made the poor bird soar. 

Up springs a storm! The Dove's white feathers 

show. 
While Nuts are cracking on the deck below. 
And then an iceberg looms against the sky, 
95 



The Bee's Bayonet 



But still the Dove is far too proud to fly; 
But when, anon, a periscope appears 
The Bird of Peace is overcome by fears, 
And " beats it " to the iceberg's crystal crest, 
Where she prepares to build her neutral nest. 

The Submarine atop the billows now. 

Stands by the Squirrel until she dips her bow 

And sinks beneath the waves; then looks above 

And takes a parting broadside at the Dove. 

The " Angel " then, in Neptune's sky-machine 

Ascendeth in a blaze of gasoline; 

The Dove, marooned, broods over many things, 

Nestling her poor cold feet beneath her wings. 



Regenerate, the Angel has returned 

From empyrean Flight, to Earth, and learned 

(I think Saint Peter gave him sound advice!) 

To keep the Pacifistic Germ on ice 

Until a Luther, if there still remains 

One decent man where Wilhelm Caesar reigns, 

Denounces all the crimes of Germany, 

And proselytes to crush Autocracy. 



96 



JINGLES 

Little Bo Peep 

Went fast to sleep; 

Losing her sheep. 
There were ninety and nine of these lambkins that 

fled 
When poor, little Bo was asleep in her bed; 
And when they returned they were mutton instead. 

O, what a stew! 

'Twixt me and yew 

What could Bo do? 

O! Jack and Jill 

Went up the hill, 

Their pail to fill. 
The water was running: they didn't pursue. 
But filled up their growler with Double X Brew, 
And Jill, in a measure, was full, and Jack too. 

Both had a thirst: 

Jack's was the worst : 

He tumbled first. 

Horner boy Jack 
Had the right knack; 
Cornered the snack. 
His fortune grew fast from that one Christmas 

plum ; 
His profits on 'Change showed a marvelous sum, 
97 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Till he soon had Financialdom under his thumb. 
O ! what a wiz ! 
Jack knew his biz: 
All now is his. 

Good old King Cole, 

" Merry old Soul," 

Knew how to bowl. 
No high-balls were spared at his nocturnal spread, 
And the fumes of the liquor would strike in his 

head 
Till, knocked off his pins, he was set up in bed. 

Jackass or king 

Will have his fling: 

Naughty, Old Thing. 

Old Lady Drew 

Lived in a shoe: 

Children there too. 
Their home was too cramped for a dozen or more, 
But others have suffered from tight shoes before, 
So the latch-string was always hung out on the door. 

To upper skies 

Good old sole flies, 

With all her ties. 

The Drews and Jack Horner lived on the same 
street : 

98 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Jack gambled with Hymen and Drew Marguerite, 
And love for his sole-mate affected his feet. 
There ne'er was a *' comeback " to poor Jack and 

Jill; 

The King followed after them going " down hill," 
And Bo, left alone, is a sheepish maid still. 



99 



THE WEIGHT OF LOVE 

I was sitting in the parlor 

With my Sweetheart on my knee, 

And the fireplace lights and shadows 
Silhouetted her and me. 

Heavy grew she towards the morning, 
When the gold-fringed sunbeams leap: 

She was wide awake as ever 
But my leg was fast asleep. 

Flesh is weak and so I shifted 
My loved load, as best I could, 

From the numb knee to the other ; 
From the leg of flesh to wood. 

Then I felt my Sweetheart shiver, 

And I realized her state 
When she drew a white-ash sliver 

From the leg articulate. 



lOO 



DO IT! 

Dare to do it! 

You'll not rue it 

If you save some Human Craft 

From the rocks where fierce gales blew it, 

Using Kindness for a raft. 

O, dare to do! 

Be kind and true 

To the friends you make thru life; 

Then High Heaven will reward you 

With immunity from strife. 

If a Lion 

Were a dyin', 

Would you go into his lair 

And attempt to soothe his cryin'? 

Do it! Do it, if you dare! 



lOI 



AMENITIES 

The Parson tied the Hymen knot 
That made two halves a whole; 

The while a speculating what 
Would be his marriage toll. 

The Groom, when he had kissed the Bride, 

Was taken with the chills: 
Her icy lips could not abide 

Osculatory thrills. 

But soon his fever was effaced; 

His hand obeyed his will, 
And in the Parson's palm he placed 

A soiled One Dollar Bill. 

" Anathema! " the preacher cried, — 
''Thou reptile of the Earth!" 

The Groom replied — " Then take the 
Bride! 
I think it's all she's worth ! " 



102 



" DANSER SUR UN VULCAN " 

Now goeth forth the Swell elite, 
With patent leathers on his feet; 
With collar spotless, cuffs to suit, 
In truth bon-ton, from hat to boot. 

A bootblack, with an eye to biz. 
With dirty hands and ugly phiz. 
Beholds him as he goes, and throws 
Banana peels beneath his toes. 

Along the pave Adonis trips; 
He steps upon the peel, and slips 
Into the juicy gutter: 
His eyes are filled with fire and ire. 
But water, muck and mire conspire 
To drown the words he'd utter. 



L ENVOI 

Go where you will, the stars will shine. 
And so will Tony, I opine: 
But O ! the stars Adonis spied 
When he went " out," a sewerside. 



103 



AT THE BULGING UDDER TIME 

Years have passed since I, an urchin, 
Drove the Cow, so sleek and prime, 

Down the path, where crows were perchin' 
At the Bulging Udder Time. 

Those were days well worth one's living, 
When I watched, with joy sublime. 

What the generous Cow was giving 
At the Bulging Udder Time. 

Later on, when we grew older, 
Father gave us each a dime — 

Me and Bill — to milk and hold her. 
At the Bulging Udder Time : 

But, alas! we came to grieving: 

Bill was kicked and smeared with grime. 
And the Cow boo-booed on leaving — 

*' Come around some udder time! " 



104 



VAGARIES 

The husky Corn has pushed ahead with silken locks 
atop ; 
O, Brother, ain't it shocking? 
And Colonels are expecting quite a bumper Bour- 
bon crop — 
Saloonward they are flocking! 
But when they strip the ears and find the wasteful 
worms surrounding, 
'Twill make the " moonshine " dimmer; 
For ev'ry still has coils of worms illicitly abound- 
ing 
Where sour-mash mixtures simmer. 
The hillside Stills their fragrance breathe, and wood 
birds are a sounding; 
My jug is in the hollow: 
So fill it up, but watch your step and Secret Serv- 
ice hounding! 
The scent is sweet to follow. 

The Cotton Bolls are bursting forth with weevils 
in the sepals; 
Come, Dinah, get to picking! 
And rush the staple to the mart to clothe the naked 
peoples ! 
Or you will get a licking! 
The baleful Gins are all prepared to do the fibre- 
squeezing : 

105 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Get busy, Massa Willie! 
And set the weevils back a bit, and save the folks 
from freezing! 
It's getting powerful chilly! 
You Pickaninnies hustle now, and do the proper 
bagging ! 
The possum's cooking, Honey! 
And when the work is thru we'll do our banjo 
stunts, and ragging 
And get our " Cakewalk " money. 



1 06 



A SHATTERED ROMANCE 

My heart is aflame with a love that enslaves 

My passion for thee is afire; 
My soul is athirst for the love that it craves, 

And you are the one I admire. 

Pray speak, Dear! and say your affections are 
mine. 

And all the sweet charms you possess ; 
Then I will surrender my wishes to thine 

And be but thy slave, I confess. 

When she answered, at length, I felt very sure 
I'd pleaded my cause quite enough; 

You're the one man on earth I couldnt endure. 
So cut out that comedy stuff! " 



107 



THE MILKY WAY 

I went to school, like any lad, 
And learned to read and write: 

With pencil, books and writing-pad 
I grew quite erudite. 

Promoted soon, my Teacher thought 
I would some day, be great; 

And so painstakingly he taught 
Me how to conjugate. 

And talked to me about the Moon, 
Of Venus, Saturn, Mars, 

Till I was rated, very soon, 
Authority on Stars. 

A graduate, I searched the skies 
For orbs unknown before, 

Determined that I'd specialize 
In Astronomic lore: 

But how to buy a telescope 
And all the charts required ? 

An attick was my only hope 
Of all the things desired: 

And so I compromised and bought 
Binoculars and case, 
io8 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And ev'ry night the Stars I sought 
At Daly's Burlesque Place. 

The one, bright, meteoric Flame 

In all that stellar group, 
Soon fell for me ; then took my name 

And quit the Burlesque Troupe. 

But I'm eclipsed! the Satellite 

That twinkles in the crib, 
Keeps Mother pinning, day and night, 

A didy or a bib. 



109 



THE LOGOTHETE 

" Beware the dog ! " Beware the Logothete ! 
The Octoped with elephantine feet: 
(I mean by this — with the big understanding; 
The Byzantine Pup of Theodore's branding.) 
A thousand years chained to Hellespont's brink, 
He never once whimpered or lapped up a drink. 
Hydrophobia? No! just aphasia, 
'Cause he couldn't cross over to Asia. 

The old Logothete is the Watch Dog of State: 
He feeds upon figures (he'll cipher an eight!) 
And starts ev'ry meal with a twelve or sixteen, 
Then multiplies units to munch on between. 
Voracity thus as an integer stands 
For his diurnal gorge on multiplicands. 
Numerical strength makes the Logothete thrive, 
And fractions he dotes on — just eats 'em alive! 

He lashes his tail by Marmora's flood. 
But eats from the hand of Sultan Ahmud ; 
A collar of gold, set with aquamarines, 
Makes him the envy of Justin's near-queens; 
His Kennel-Kiosque (the hyphen's germane!) 
Rivals the harems of Constantine's reign. 
Innocuous? No! nor yet desuetude, 
For he daily absorbs whole columns of food. 



IIO 



The Bee's Bayonet 



His teeth are as sharp as the Damaskeene blade 
That severed the chains on the Macedon maid; 
And as keen as the knife avenging the dame 
Who was sold to the Sheik in Mesopotame. 
But the point that I make — no whimper or yelp 
Had ever been voiced by this Logothete whelp 
Until Archaeologists, searching the grounds, 
Unearthed dogmatisms and bitumen sounds 
Of the highest known pitch, resembling a v*^hine 
Or unrav'ling snarls of the Octopedine. 
And thus they've exploded the silence complete 
Tradition ascribes to the old Logothete * — 
And so, in unleashing this Byzantine Pup, 
They merit grave censure for digging things up. 

1 From Logos (word) and Thete (Theodore) — The 
word of Theodore. 



Ill 



THE PRICE OF PEACE 

There's music in the Eagle's shriek; 
There's ditto in the Lion's roar, 
But discord marks the Bolshevik 
Because the Bear doth growl no more. 

The Dogs of War are out of tune, — 
No harmony doth move the critters: 
Unless they cease their fighting soon 
The wounded whelps will have no litters. 

Jerusalem! the Turk is spent! 
The bagpipes took his breath, I think. 
The Crescent now is badly bent. 
And Allah's cause is on the blink. 

The Bulgar too has shot his bolt, 
And soon will quit — the poor pariah ! 
For now there's rumor of revolt 
In Ananias and Sofia. 

The Hun is playing wuth the Slav — 
The Kremlin Mouse and Potsdam Cat; 
But Cossack, too, can smear the salve. 
And 'twixt them twain doth Peace fall flat. 

Some day the Dove of Peace will swoop 
With long, befigured bill, and put it 
Against the Vulture-Kultur coop 
And make the Prussian Junkers foot it, 
112 



MEN HAD HORNS THEN 

Newspaper Item, Athens, Pa., July 29: The archae- 
ologists who are traversing the Susquehanna River Val- 
ley, visiting sites of Indian villages and digging up 
aborigines and other relics, are said to have made a 
most astounding discovery on the Murray farm, near 
here, in finding the bones of sixty-eight pre-historic men. 
The average height of these men when their skeletons 
were assembled was seven feet, while many were much 
taller. Additional evidence of their gigantic size is 
found in the massive stone battle axes in their graves. 
The average age of these men is said to have been from 
thirty to forty. Another amazing point of this discovery 
is the allegation that " perfectly formed skulls were found 
from which horns grew straight out from the head." 

The Homestead of Satan, they say, has been found 
Near Athens, P. A., in a hole in the ground; 
And people are flocking from Athens and Sayre 
To view the remains of their ancestors there. 

When Satan established himself in this zone 
He found it distasteful to live all alone; 
So he went to Towanda in quest of a bride, 
And then tilled the soil till his seed multiplied. 

So scores of young Devils at Murray's were born 
That measured five cubits between hoof and horn. 
Each one was equipped with a tail and two wings. 
And asbestos garments at Nick's Sulphur Springs. 

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The Bee's Bayonet 



And that's why you find all their skeletons here 
In good preservation: but isn't it queer 
That Devils at Athens, the place of their birth, 
Were the sole legatees of Hell upon Earth? 

But Devils, like men, reach the ends of their ropes, 
And have disappointments and unfulfilled hopes, — 
So Satan discovered, too late we are told, 
The climate at Murray's was too beastly cold. 

His imps all contracted pneumonia and died; 
So he buried them here in the Pit, side by side, 
Near Athens, P. A., by the River Chemung, 
Where they've been unmolested till now, and un- 
sung. 

And there their bones bleached, in the Sulphuric 

Pits, 
Until Archaeologists came with their kits 
And made excavations, not thinking of harm, 
But raising the devil at Rube Murray's Farm. 

Now Satan's exposed and his ossified get, 
(A few yet remain in the flesh, I regret!) 
And Murray of Athens is living, I wot 
On skeletons dug from this Hell-enic spot. 
114 



SUB ROSA 

The Busy Bee, to gather honej^, goes 
Touching the clover bloom and then the rose ; 
An easy prey, the clover blossom yields 
Its treasures garnered from the fragrant fields; 
But all the sweetness that the rose adorns, 
Protected is from theft by jealous thorns. 
The Bee, ergo, in quest the flowers among, 
Gets sometimes honey and gets sometimes stung. 



WHITMANESQUE 

The snow is falling on the hemlock boughs: 
Courage, Comrade, Spring will come again! 
The birds are leaving the evergreen trees, 
And that's why they are not deciduous. 
O, Winter! I shake thy icy hand. 
And, shaking, shovel the beautiful snow: 
But what shall I do with such an abundance? 
It is already piled high in my neighbor's yard, 
And he is watching me from his attic window. 
And yet more snow! How pure you seem tho' 
falling ! 



AN APEOLOGY 

This is the Ape, made famous, you'll agree, 

By Darwin's Evolution Theory. 

His destiny fulfilled, he rests at ease 

With tribal Apes, Baboons and Chimpanzees; 

Preferring, so, to recreation find. 

Than with his tailless counterpart, Mankind, 

A doubtful branch of his posterity: 

And makes a monkey, thus, of 5^ou and me. 



THE BUG 

This is the Bug, unable to resist 

The blandishments of Entomologist. 

He soon succumbs to net or trap or pin 

And fills his place the cabinet within. 

A volume then explains his habits, source, 

And all his secrets and his aims of course; 

Which leads me to conclude, when facts are dug, 

The Man of Science is the biggest " Bug." 



ii6 



WAKE, MY LOVE! 

Darling, I my vigil keep 

Close beside you, while you sleep. 

Let the Dream of Love abide! 

Cupid will not be denied; 

For he whispers to you now, 

And prints kisses on your brow; 

While his velvet finger tips 

Hush the protest on your lips. 

Wake, My Love! And do not chide 

Cupid pleading by your side! 

Darkness lingers in the skies 
Till the light of your bright eyes 
Adds new brilliance to the sun: 
Not till then is Day begun! 
Ope your lips and speak one word — 
Sweetest cadence ever heard! 
Loose your tresses! Let them rest 
On your snowy, virgin breast, 
And entwine these roses rare 
In the ringlets nestling there. 

Wake, My Love! The sunbeams shed 
Golden treasures on your head ; 
While iEolus woos your cheeks, 
And exacts the kiss he seeks. 
Love, aquiver, draws his bow 
117 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And demands that sleep must go ; 
For a jealous elf is he 
Who will brook no rivalr)^ 
So let Love a Kingdom make 
In his Heart for Thee: Awake! 



ii8 



FIRST PSALM 

Happy indeed is he who goes 
The Straight and Narrow Way, 

And heedeth not the lure of those 
Who from His precepts stray. 

With joy observeth he the acts 
The Master doth proclaim, 

And, day or night, no fervor lacks 
To bless His holy name. 

And he shall be a fruitful tree 
Deep-rooted in the Truth; 

And not a leaf shall withered be 
Nor fruitage cease, forsooth. 

But those who follow not the Course 
The Master hath decreed. 

Shall shrivel and decay, perforce, 
And barren be their seed. 

It follows then, that those who sin 

Must turn again to clay. 
While righteous men are gathered in 

On Resurrection Day. 

For God rewards the Pure in Heart 
And knoweth all their needs; 

While those who from his ways depart 
Shall be like broken reeds. 
119 



NOT PEACE, BUT REVENGE! 

Peace? do you say? When my homestead is razed, 
And Death stalks the fields where my cattle once 
grazed ; 
And the Dear One Is dead 
Whom I courted and wed, 
The Joy of my Life when the hearthstone fires 
blazed. 

Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wife 
And the brave little son, who gave up his life 

That she might escape 

From the murder or rape 
Of helmeted hordes in the unequal strife! 

Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your 

shoes ! 
Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse. 

He was true to his Land, 

So you cut off his hand 
And left him but slav'ry or famine to choose. 

Peace? My wounds cry aloud: Never! I say 
Till your legions are killed or driven away 
And my country is free: 
But, stay! What's that to me. 
Since all my own Loved Ones lie murdered to-day? 



1 20 



The Bee's Bayonet 



No! ! Not Peace, but Revenge! Here is my 

gun — 
Surrendered ? O, No ! for its work is not done : 
When my bayonet's sting 
Smites the heart of your King, 
And 3^our hell-hounds are flayed, — then Peace will 
be won! 



121 



HEREDITY 

I see her creeping 'long the nursery floor, — 
A dainty, blue-eyed Babe, scarce old enough 

To realize 'tis she whom I adore, — 
She is a priceless diamond in the rough. 

Again I see her playing with a host 
Of noisy, kindergarten girls and boys; 

She seems to me the fairest and the most 
Refined: a pure gold girl without alloys. 

And thus from stage to stage I watch the maid 
As she develops like the budding rose. 

And then, Ah me! I'm jealously afraid 

That she admires me less than other beaux. 

And then, anon, I see her on the knee 

Of Willie Jones: I think she shouldn't oughter! 
But then my Courtship Days come back to me — 

Just like her Ma! She is my only Daughter! 



122 



THE CALL OF THE HOMESTEAD 

There's a dear, little spot, near my Hoosier home- 
town, 

Where the mortgage runs up as the buildings run 
down, 

That I love to return to, a restful retreat. 

Just to slush around there with the mud on my 
feet. 

There's the forked, wormy apple-tree, dead to the 

bark. 
And the sickle and grindstone, brought out of the 

Ark; 
And the Shed, where I fled, with my illicit pipe, 
To assuage stomach-aches when green apples were 

" ripe." 

There's the collar and churn, worn by Dash day 
by day, 

And the chain that prevented his running away; 

And the yoke for the oxen — Haw, Buck! and Gee, 
Bride! 

And the Troth for the Squealers the hen-house be- 
side. 

There's the Dovecote, unroofed, and the sweep by 

the well. 
And the ooze in the barnyard and natural-gas smell : 
123 



The Bees Bayonet 



There's the hayrake and silo; the tin weathervane, 
And the two, moss-grown graves where the Old 
Folks were lain. 

And the milk-stools are there, and the cowpath and 

stile ; 
And a few hardy scarecrows remain yet awhile; 
And the taxes, unpaid, still appear on the book 
Of the County Collector, Nathaniel U. Crook. 

So I keep coming back, to my old Hoosier shack. 
To inhale the sweet mildew of hay in the stack, 
And to drink from the spring where the bull-frogs 

abound 
That protect the young cowslips that grow all 

around. 

Now the mortgage is due and the int'rest unpaid, 
And I can't get a cent for the place, I'm afraid; 
But I love to return here, at vacation time, 
Just to revel again in the mud and the slime. 



124 



DECIMAL POINTS 

The Paleface undertook, with sword and gun, 

To civilize the Redskins one by one; 

And Lo attempted, with his bow and arrow. 

To sap the Paleface of his very marrow. 

As fast as one, on either side, was slain 

Another took his place to fight again; 

Thus both the warring tribes said — " What's the 

use? " 
And straightway called a halt and signed a truce. 

Then Paleface planned and dug — and well of 

course — 
A pit for Lo, without resort to force; 
And Lo, in turn, a counter plan invented 
To clear the forests where the Paleface tented. 
And so the Paleface, from his fullness, gave 
A cask of Laughing Water to each Brave; 
And Lo, whose giving was an artful knack, 
Took up the scent and sent tobacco back. 
So, Time discloses how each plan availed; 
Which won, at last, and which, in order, failed, 
For now in Peace the Paleface moves about, 
While Lo and Laughing Water fight it out. 

He was the first to fly — Darius Green ! 
But Green had trouble with his crude machine 
And failed to make a mark for lofty flying, 
And so he just dropped out and gave up trying. 
125 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The Pickaninny to the bayou goes 

And caches on the bank his homespun clothes; 

Then headlong leaps into the pool below 

Where Imps of Darkness destined are to go. 

An alligator sees the urchin dive 

And, Holy Moses! swallows him alive, 

Not thinking that the Afric strength, thus caged, 

Would prove his match and master when engaged: 

But so it did! for Fate evolved a plan 

To snatch. the "charcoal" from the saurian; 

And as the latter spewed and lashed his tail, 

(A tale like Jonah wrestling with the whale) 

The lad escaped; of course he had to shout some! 

So overjoyed was he at such an outcome. 

When Aaron Burr decided to invite 

His hated rival to a pistol fight. 

He knew, of course, because his aim was wicked, 

That his opponent, in advance, was licked. 

And thus the scheme of Providence began 

To canonize the Hamiltonian. 

Had Mary tied her lambkin in the barn. 
There might have been a different kind of yarn. 
She could have said '' I leave you " with the bull, 
Or " I'll return anon," and pulled the wool; 
126 



The Bee's Bayonet 



The lamb could have replied — " What's all this 

for? 
I'll meet you, Mary, in the abattoir! " 
But No! They had to make the sheep the goat 
And tie a siren bell around his throat, 
And make him go to school. " Kids," as a rule, 
Would rather much be killed than go to school. 



Had Nero played on burning Rome the hose 

Instead of fiddling while the blazes rose. 

He might have been, in Fame's Retort, a hero, 

Firemano Primo Volunteero Nero. 

But quite another part this Caesar played, 

The part of Arson in red robes arrayed. 

He watched the fire, in all its flares and phases, 

Quite unconcerned, but fiddled on like blazes. 

But Nero didn't finish what he started 

Because, while Rome still burned, his E string 

parted. 
Tho Julius Caesar's Wars our lives inspire 
This Caesar wouldn't even fight a fire; 
Nor would he lead the Roman Legions, tho 
He was reputed skillful with the bow ; 
Perhaps the smoke-screen from the burning city 
Was planned to hide the discords of his ditty; 
127 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And when at last this King is placed on trial, 
This verdict will prevail, — his w^ork was viol. 

Had Antony been less a Marc and kept 

His armor on while Cleopatra slept, 

He might have been a Conqueror of note 

Instead of Captor of a Petticoat; 

And, traitor to his country, judged to be 

A Soldier less than Slave to Lingerie. 

Some Commentators — and I blush with shame — 

Contend that *' Cle " and Sheba were the same: 

If this contention's true, as I surmise, 

It follows that King Solomon was w^se; 

And so was Sheba when she left his regions 

By camel-carriage for the Roman Legions, — 

Leaving the King, with all his wives and breeders, 

To pine for her among the stately cedars. 

I'm not quite sure, but who's the bigger dunce? 

The King? Or Marc, who got in wrong but oncef 

The oldtime Reader taught us self-reliance 
(But this refers to school-days — not to Science!) 
And pointed out, in no uncertain style, 
Examples we should follow or revile. 
Old Rover, for example, was to me 
The highest standard of true loyalty. 
He used to hang around the playground gate 
128 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And there for Bones, his Master, sit and wait, 
Though Bones, poor dunce, each day when school 

was over, 
Was kept and spanked, but waited still old Rover. 

The Reader states that Rover, too, was fleet. 

And never knew the anguish of de feet ; 

And had a face so honest, ear so quick, 

That he could steal a bone and dodge a stick. 

That's all the Reader says, but I believe 

He grew too diabetic to retrieve. 

And so was cast aside — the poor old brute ! 

Because the mange affected his hirsute; 

Was driven from the confines of his birth 

Because not prized: Great Scott! a Kennelworth: 

And so, a rover still, thus doomed to flea 

Far from his home and consanguinity; 

But, cast adrift in sinking bark, O, Setter! 

Than wienerwursts or sausages is better! 

There was a time when Henry Clay awoke 
To see his fame and name go up in smoke. 
His reputation only went this far, 
That he was featured as a choice cigar. 
Before that day, when his renown was ripe. 
He also was distinguished as a pipe. 
129 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Eliminating all attempts at joking, 

He was thus honored then, and still is smo-King. 

Had Eve, a woman of unusual birth, 
Who had the love of ev'ry man on earth. 
Been given what the modern wife receives, 
Fine frocks and hats instead of wreaths and leaves 
A mansion, bank-account and car or carriage. 
Hers would have been the first ideal marriage. 
But selfish Adam took her to a cavern 
(Our present bridal parties seek a tavern.) 
And made her wash and sew and hem and haw 
With fitting meekness 'cause his word was law. 
First Lady of the Land, she should have had 'em — 
All creature comforts but the stingy Adam. 
Faithful to husband, she should have instead 
Broken her marriage vows upon his head. 
No wonder she was tempted: if she fell 
*Twas circumstantial, else she wouldn't tell. 



130 



BELLES-LETTRES 

Hear the perfume of the belles, 

Social belles! 
What a loud auroma, a monopoly in smells! 
How they stinkle, stinkle, stinkle, 
When the corsage bursts in sight! 
While the powder in each wrinkle 
And the gewgaw gems that twinkle 

Make them ugly in the light; 
Reeking scent, scent, scent, 
When they're upright, prone or bent 
While the sachet begs for freedom, and the musk, 
revolting, yells 
On the belles, belles, belles, belles. 
Belles, belles, belles, 
On the weary, bleary, smeary Social Belles. 

Hear the monstrous Schoolhouse bells, 

Direful bells! 
WTiat a dirge of irony their ting-a-ling expels! 
Like the chanticleer at morn. 
How they torture us, and warn 
We must hurry or be canned 
At call of roll. 

How they peel their tunics and 
Whoop 'er up, with tireless tongues, to beat the 
band ; 
What a toll! 

131 



The Bee's Bayonet 



O, you blatant, brazen shells! 

You ringers for Mephisto, from superheated hells, 
With your knells! 
Truth compels 
That we voice our joy with yells 
'Cause you're hung and bound in cells 
While we're swearing and despairing, 
O, you bells, bells, bells. 
Wicked bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells, 
O, you rocking, mocking, shocking Schoolhouse 
bells! 



132 



SANDY, THE PIPER 

Do ye know me mon Sandy, — Sandy the Piper? 

'E's 'ome on a leave, with 'is chin shot away! 
They wouldn't a 'armed 'im, but some blooming 
sniper 

Just slipped 'im a slug from a roof in Bombay. 

'Ow did it all 'appen? Well, just one battalion 

Was left in the Barracks: the rest 'ad been sent 
To guard the new Viceroy, with Major MacCal- 
lion: 
It was dubbed the " 'Ot Scotch," this I2th Regi- 
ment. 

The Colonel was sick with a Jungle disorder, 
And 'arf of the time was well out of 'is 'ead ; 

And when the Sepoys, from the 'Yderbad Border 
Revolted and rushed us, the Colonel was dead. 

So Sandy and men were besieged and near choking. 
And most the battalion was killed or 'ad fell, 

While the fiends in the street, like devils a stoking, 
Were firing this 'ell 'ole with bullet and shell. 

'Twas 'ere that me Sandy broke out thru a window, 

Disguised as a Rajah, with turban and sword; 

And so, quite unnoticed (they thought him a 'In- 

doo!) 

'E soon joined the ranks of the mutinous 'orde. 

133 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And then 'e 'arrangued 'em ('e knew all their jar- 
gon!) 
And urged 'em to scatter and uphold the law; 
But 'ere 'e was thru 'e was sick of 'is bargain 

When a bloody bomb-bullet 'alf shattered 'is 
jaw. 

So Sandy's back 'ome, but his features are altered: 

What a close shave 'e 'ad ! 'is face is a sight ! 
But when duty called 'e was there and ne'er fal- 
tered : 
With toot, shoot or Hoot, Mon ! 'e mixed in the 
fight. 

'Is goatee is gone, with the chin where 'e grew it : 

'E was once very bonnie when 'e was a lad ; 
And 'is bagpipe would charm me: my, 'ow 'e blew 
it! 
When 'e marched with 'is squad, a playing like 
mad. 

And I makes o'er 'im still, tho Sandy's not pretty. 
But a 'ero 'e is in Northlands and South : 

A gude wife I've been, tho I think it a pity 
That Sandy was given to shoot off 'is mouth. 

134 



" BEN BOLT " 

Ben Franklin was a Jester of the sort 

That fused, with wit, rare wisdom in retort; 

And, on his mettle, tempered by a smile 

His irony could hold them all awhile. 

King Louis' Court to impotence made plea 

Before the onslaughts of his repartee. 

His well-aimed jibes were quite as hard to dodge 

As meteors agleam with persiflage. 

His oily tongue worked on a swinging swivel, 

For he spat out his thoughts and didn't drivel. 

The Quakers, in his absence, had attacks 

Of blues, because they missed his almanacs; 

And Frenchmen soon began to understand 

And praise his jokes (in England contraband). 

He said to Louis, " Sire, the skies are down; 

I wouldn't give a Fillip for your crown." 

And added, ** Nay, I wouldn't give a sou! 

There's just one Philip, but sixteen of you! " 

He had no fear, you see, of raining Kings, 

And, with umbrella raised, enjoyed his flings. 

Such pointed puns disfavor oft beget, 

But Louis laughed and so did Lafayette. 

Tho galley slave, like creatures of his type. 

He broke his chains, when Freedom's plans were 

ripe. 
And put the U. S. A. upon the chart, 
Allied to France, thru diplomatic art. 
135 



The Bee's Bayonet 



To-day Ben Bolt, who clipped the lion's claws, 
For lightning work gets thunderous applause. 
The thunderbolts obeyed at his command. 
And currents, insubordinate, were canned. 
He kept the Upper Regions on the string , 
And shocked the Lower World like everything. 
All praise to Franklin, Diplomatic Star! 
He went where he was sent, but not too far: 
And tho he flew his mortal kite so high. 
Poor Richard's name illuminates the sky. 



136 



EXCELSIOR 

The bale consigned to O. U. Crook, 
Upholsterer — marked, use no hook, 
Was not curled hair or even moss, 
Nor yet a mixture or a cross, 
Excelsior ! 

This Davenport was made to v^^ear; 
Fine leather and best camel hair! " 
Said Crook (a patent skin all right. 
But all the " hair" w^as out of sight). 
Excelsior ! 

And so Crook sold the lounge or couch 
To some poor Boob vi^ith gold-filled pouch; 
And also sold an easy chair 
(The Easy Mark was stuffed for fair.) 
Excelsior ! 

And thus he plied his artful trade 
(A better Craftsman ne'er was made) 
Until the shavings, dyed and curled, 
Resembled hair for all the world. 
Excelsior! 

O, baleful occupation his! 
The way he made his mattresses 
Would make a lounging layman sick. 
137 



The Bee's Bayonet 



He sold for cash and gave no tick — 
Excelsior ! 

A mark-down sale Crook staged in time - 
Such bed-rock prices are a crime," 
I get my hair by camel-train " : 
But all his " hair " was cut in Maine — ■ 
Excelsior! 

And then a fire occurred at length 
To bolster Crook's financial strength: 
The glue that mocked the incensed air 
Mistaken was for burning hair; 
Excelsior ! 

Beware the pine-tree's fibrous heart! 
But this gave Crook his fiscal start, 
And now a tall, pine shaft is seen 
Above Crook's grave; 'tis evergreen — 
Excelsior! 



138 



HER AND HIM 



Her 



To-day's her birthday: I'll not say which one,- 
But I have known her twenty years or more 
When courtship days were joyously begun, 
And she had reached her sixteenth year, before. 

And so her age is no concern of mine: 
She may have dropped a birthday now and then. 
But surely she's improved with age like wine: 
I wouldn't wish her in her teens again. 

And she's my Pal! O, yes, we love, of course! 
But feel, besides, the joy of comradeship 
That finds expression at Love's very source 
In language of the heart — not of the lip. 

And so she is my everlasting pride: 
To Beauty's very pinnacle she's grown! 
Thru life we'll seek our pleasures side by side; 
Her heart athrob with love for me alone. 



139 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Him 

O, yes ! we're splendid friends, Old Jack and I : 
He's growing grave and wrinkles now appear 
Where once the smiles his cheeks were wont to ply. 
He's losing all his energy, I fear. 

I married him some twenty years ago 
When dancing was a chief delight of his; 
But now alone I trip the Terpsic toe, 
For poor, old Jack has got the rheumatiz. 

He's aging fast: I see it every day! 
He's fat and short of breath, yet how he snores! 
His few remaining hairs are saffron-grey, 
For nicotine keeps oozing from his pores. 

He seems so childish, but I humor him 
Altho my friends declare Fm such a dunce. 
Wrinkled, rheumatic; bare of brains and vim — 
Good-bye, Old Jack! You were a good one 07icel 



140 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIVING 

We bivouac here and barely get acquainted 
Until the furlough ends; then we are sainted, 
Whether our acts deserve rebuke or praise. 
When we are dead the recollection stays 
Of virtues only: vices are excused, 
But to the living pardon is refused. 
And yet, alive, I'd rather be unsung, 
Than any Saint the catacombs among. 
Tho critics flay me and the censors sneer, 
'Twere better so, than praises on my bier. 
And so we walk life's slender rope till, bing! 
We slip and fall or someone cuts the string. 
Ambition lures us, but the pinkest peach 
Is always just beyond us, out of reach: 
And when, at last, we think we are in line 
To cross the threshold, lo! the Full House sign. 
We never quite obtain the golden urn 
Tho rainbows beckon every way we turn. 
Who ever found, I ask you, all he sought? 
Our best endeavors ofttimes come to naught: 
And yet we trudge along, loath to confess 
We're only groping in a wilderness; 
Plodding the sands that burn our feet, and hurt; 
Seeking the Promised Land, our just desert. 
Had Caesar reached the zenith of his life 
When Brutus cut his friendship with the knife? 
The ladder broke and he was headlong flung 
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The Bee's Bayonet 



While setting foot upon the topmost rung. 

Thus picture Caesar giving up the ghost 

Just when he reached the pinnacle, almost! 

Did Bonaparte receive his proper due? 

He got it, but too late, at Waterloo. 

He played with fire, aroused the seething crater, 

And now, with Nick, inhabits the Equator. 

So we conclude, delving the lines between, 

He might as well have clung to Josephine. 

Tho Tell's renown illumes the Alpine sky 

Whose target was the Apple of his eye. 

As much distinction, and applause to boot. 

Should be bestowed on William's steady shoot: 

More praise to him, than the Toxopholite, 

Who held the apple but eschewed a bite! 

The worst of us hath goodness in his breast; 

The best of us but fails, put to the test, — 

So, in arrears, we strive to pay the price 

For Fortune's frowns or Fate's disastrous dice 

Until we're bankrupt or too spent to wrest 

Long hoped-for treasure from Mad Mammon's 

chest. 
Tho life hath ups and downs, the weeping willow 
Our ends shapes better than the downy pillow. 
It takes stern measures to incline .the bantling. 
In right direction, without switch or scantling. 
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The Bee's Bayonet 



The optimist with farthings in his pouch, 
Gets more enjoyment than the wealthy Grouch 
Thus cheerfulness, a product underrated, 
In every household should be cultivated. 
Give me the man who, tho in direst straits. 
Will thumb his sharp proboscis at the Fates; 
Who'll take the flimsy fire escape, or dive 
Into the net, glad to get out alive; 
Who, tho the skies be unpropitious, crowds 
His way along, unmindful of the clouds; 
Who never quits, in life's unequal bout, 
But keeps on fighting till he's counted out. 



143 



THE SIXTH OF APRIL 

Awake, Americans! Awake! Awake! 
'Tis April Sixth ! A year of War and yet 
The Hun lines hold: Louvain is unavenged. 
Be Thou our Guide, O God of Joshua! 
Thru battles yet unstaged, and Comfort when, 
From War's Inferno comes the phantom file. 
The endless, ghastly file of martyred dead. 

Daughters of Belgium, thy vestal tears 
Make womanhood still more an honored name; 
And Germany, when Reason reappears. 
Must dearly pay for her revolting shame! 

Awake, Americans! Our task is grim; 
For Hell and all the Imps of Sin deride 
The Code of Morals, spit upon the Cross, 
Drive torturing nails into the bleeding flesh 
Of all Mankind who follow Him thru paths 
Made plain and gladsome by the Golden Rule; 
And foist vile kultur as Refinement's height. 

And what of skulking Sharks, scum of the sea, 
That prey on Innocents, while o'er them fly 
Poised to inflict a further agony, 
The Vampire Bats that violate the sky? 

Behold the ravaged homes of Serbia! 
Where are her people? Ask the godless Goths 
144 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Whose Car of Kultur crushed beneath its wheels 
This stalwart Race! Ask, too, the Bulgar hordes. 
The mountain wolves, who pounce upon and rend, 
In guise of Pacifiers of the Land, 
Those who escaped the onslaughts of the Huns. 

Tho sapped by hunger and disease; tho crushed 
By overwhelming numbers of the foe, 
Thy Star, O, Serb, when battles' din be hushed. 
Shall rise again, suffused with Freedom's glow ! 

Now in the sacred name of God our guide, 
Home, Country, Honor, Love and Motherhood, 
Can we indifferent be to ravishment, 
Wanton destruction, murder steeped in hate — 
This loathsome litter whelped by Junkerdom? 
'Tis ours to dare and crush this monstrous Thing: 
Our Allies worn and bleeding, struggle on. 

Armenian tears, a flood of pent-up grief. 
Flow on and on, a torrent of despair. 
Rape! Murder! Pillage! Is there no relief 
For Niobe, deserted, weeping there? 

Nation Invincible, unsheath thy blade! 
God be thy leader : Justice be thy Sword ! 
145 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Nor pause until the ruthless Beast is flayed 
With sated steel — and Liberty restored ! 



BENEATH A CLOUD 

Under a passing cloud the moon was hid. 

I really was delighted to be rid 

Of Super light, for I was with my Nell, 

And I could see by her bright eyes as well. 

We didn't need the aid of spheres above, 

For that's our proper sphere — a making love. 

Midst whispering pines we pledged our love aloud, 

And thus our plight began beneath a cloud. 



46 



THE COLUMBIAD 

America! Our home, our native land! 

The joy of it — the rapture! when we say — 

We who are freemen and can understand — 

This is our heritage — the U. S. A. ! 

Hewn from the virgin forests by our sires, 

And launched by giants capable and true, 

Our Ship of State was manned, w^hen Freedom's 

fires 
Were beacon lights, by sturdy, godly crew, — 
And so hath kept, steered by the Guiding Star 
Of Faith, her steadfast course, thru shoal or blast. 
Aloof from sirens luring from afar, 
With Stars and Stripes still waving at the mast. 
Here in our Land, where Plenty hath its store. 
Where fertile fields teem with abundant grain. 
Hunger ne'er casts its shadow on the door. 
And Famine hath no lodge on hill or plain. 
In truth doth Luxury with Plenty vie 
To fill our laps with all the luscious things 
That Nature doth provide — loath to deny 
The satisfaction that such bounty brings. 
To us was Freedom's heritage bequeathed 
To have and hold while life and pride remain: 
And so our sword must ever be unsheathed 
To guard this priceless boon from hurt or stain — 
So that the war-worn hosts in Europe's maze, 
Who fight against the Despot's ruthless spear, 
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The Bee's Bayonet 



May see the light of Liberty ablaze, 

Diffusing matchless splendor over here; 

And, friendly beacon, be to them a sign 

And Bow of Promise, in their dismal sky, 

The Light of Hope eternally to shine 

In God's resplendent galaxy on High. 

But grim starvation, at the board, presides 

Across the seas, where once the farmsteads poured 

Autumnal wealth — and Desolation rides 

Rough shod along where tramped the Prussian 

horde. 
No life remains : the fields are stark and sere ; 
The forests, leaf and branch and root, are fled ; 
The flowers lie trampled on the soldier's bier: 
Destroyed are e'en the shelters of the dead. 
The gardens that held plenty in their wombs 
Are stripped and barren as the sands of Dearth, 
And now, instead, keep vigil o'er the tombs 
Of demigods, redeemers of the Earth. 
The vineyards where the fragrant fruitage hung 
To cheer the peaceful peasant in his toil 
Are desolate where Death his shroud has flung 
Upon the breadth of France's sacred soil. 
Wrecked are the homesteads: buzzard broods 

abound 
Where shell-holes gape, and heaps of carnage rise 
148 



The Bee's Bayonet 



Above the naked bosom of the ground, 
Mutely denying guilt, in sacrifice. 
Still with the jackal at her wounds doth France 
Fight on unmindful of her pains, and lo! 
We hear her call and, seizing shield and lance. 
Crusader-like, to her assistance go. 
Her cause is just: we make her Cause our own! 
For Liberty doth in the balance swing. 
And we must guard her, if we fight alone 
To rid the world of this malignant Thing 
That, in the guise of Kultur, hides its hoofs 
And horns, its tail and spear and hideous face. 
And, as a pious priest, on Moslem roofs, 
Extols itself, usurping Allah's place. 
What blasphemy! Obsessed to germinate 
Its propaganda, its infernal cult; 
Condoning Cain's offense, instilling hate. 
It strikes with poison, dirk and catapult 
Against the precepts of the Prince of Peace; 
Against the Conscience of the Universe. 
But hatred, lust and war will never cease 
Until God's Sword destroys this monstrous curse. 
Audaciously the Priests of Kultur strive 
To spread their doctrine, but the graven god 
Against the Living Christ cannot survive. 
And in His time will scourged be with His rod. 
149 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And so our Ship of State to battle hastes, 

All sails a-drawing, sheets secure and taut, 

Manned by a stalwart crew, stripped to the waists, 

Inspired by battles that our fathers fought. 

In port at last whence Lafayette once sailed 

To aid our fight that made Britannia halt, 

They take their stand where Frenchmen never 

failed 
To hold the Verdun forts against assault. 
A mighty effort this! To send our force 
Three thousand miles, thru shark-infested sea, 
Beneath dark skies where vultures lay their course, 
To face the foe and ransom Liberty, 
Thru sacrificial offering of our sons; 
To arm and clothe five million men, and then 
Build, to convey and feed them, countless tons 
Of mighty vessels — transports, merchantmen ; 
To furnish, in addition, vast supplies 
To allied Powers whose Cause we have embraced. 
To hearten them — to strengthen friendly ties 
And stay the hand that layeth Europe waste. 
A task indeed! But let it not be thought 
By foemen or by those whom we befriend 
That Liberty our trust, so dearly bought. 
Will not be guarded to the very end. 
Tho Hercules the Strong should heave in sight 
150 



The Bee's Bayonet 



And challenge us to tests of thews and nerve, 

We'd enter the arena in our might 

And win new honors for the Land we serve; 

For Antaeus and all the myths of old 

'Gainst w^hom the supermen of yore engaged, 

Were never half so mighty, half so bold 

As peaceful freemen, righteously enraged: 

And all the modern Bullies who presume 

To dominate the world against the Right, 

Must see their day-dreams doomed to blackest 

gloom 
When Truth prevails against the Imps of Night. 
So let us fabricate in forge and mill ; 
So let us plant and nurture grain and seed; 
So let us labor and conserve until 
There be an end to Kultur's cruel creed. 
Each one of us must fight or toil or save; 
Co-ordination be our battle song; 
Hardships endure and gravest dangers brave 
If we would victors be and right the wrong. 
God's ways to mortal eyes are not revealed, 
But Faith our guidance is thru War's grim task, 
And with His help the Hosts of Sin must yield 
And Satan be denuded of his mask. 



151 



"HE'S ALL RIGHT, BUT — \'' 

I like the good old-fashioned way — 
A handshake or a slap, — 
The boys who jab your ribs and say 
"You're all right, Bill, Old Chap!" 

I like the lad who sees you first 
And always shouts your name, — 
Who, tho your luck be at its worst, 
Says — "Cheer up. Bill! Be game!" 

I like the chum who's always glad 
To soothe you when you're ill, — 
Who, when he finds you broke and sad. 
Says— "Here's a Dollar, Bill!" 

I'd like to grab him by the throat 
And hold his mouth tight shut, — 
Who, questioned, makes you out the goat 
"Who? Bill? He's all right, but — \'' 



152 



NATURE'S STUDIO 

Go where the winds keep vigil o'er the trees, 

Rocking the tender saph"ngs in the breeze; 

Go where the sunbeams play on rill and stream, 

Making the purling waters all agleam; 

Go where the birds rehearse their songs and trills 

In cool retreats, led by the Whippoorwills ; 

Go where the bees, midst clover blooms, indulge 

Their honey habit till their bellies bulge; 

Go where the trout, in alder-arbored brooks. 

Abate their hunger but eschew the hooks; 

Go where the flowers, by fairy weavers spun, 

Pour out their grateful incense to the Sun; 

Go where the deer in secret nooks disport 

And Nature, clad in verdure, holds her Court; 

Go where — nay, stay ! Yonder the artist stands. 

With brush and prismy palette in her hands. 

Before her easel, where the canvas seems 

A masterpiece in wondrous color schemes. 

What artistry! What fascinating views 

Dame Nature paints! Behold the rainbow hues 

That tint the dainty flowers and make the rose 

Blush to its sepals when it seeks repose; 

That tinge the moors and fields and turquoise sky, 

And stain the Autumn leaves with crimson dye! 

So tarry here, where moss and bluebells grow 

Upon the floor of Nature's Studio ! 



153 



PICARDY 

With heads uncovered and with cautious tread 
Approach ye here! where lie our martyred dead 
In graves unmarked, here, there and everywhere: 
So lest, ashamed, ye trample them, beware! 



AMERICA'S PRAYER 

God bless our Allies! damn the Huns! 
And consecrate our swords and guns! 



154 



EPILOGUE 

They say that a stitch that Is timely saves nine: 
You haven't your needle? O, well then, take mine; 
And all my Dream Outfit — my pipe and my dope ! 
I've smoked my last hemp to the end of my rope. 



155 



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